


Last Hope of the Celts

by sabhnc



Series: Hermione and the Celtic Revival [1]
Category: Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: Explicit Sex, F/F, Hermione reforms Bellatrix Narcissa and Draco, Hurt/Comfort, Non-graphic description of past rape, Non-problematic relationships, Ocassional Dark!Hermione, Or as close as I can get, Trauma, U-Haul lesbians, mentions of past rape
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-15
Updated: 2020-01-09
Packaged: 2020-01-13 17:17:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 37
Words: 54,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18473500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sabhnc/pseuds/sabhnc
Summary: At a young age, Hermione MacEcrae was orphaned after aurors killed her parents. Placed into a muggle orphanage at the behest of Albus Dumbledore, she was raised by the Grangers, who became abusive. First few chapters are background, but quickly moves to Half-Blood Prince, where the story truly starts. Luna/Ginny is mostly background, but they are the main supporting characters while Hermione is at Hogwarts, and during the war. Bellatrix is reforming, Hermione also brings along Narcissa and Draco. Dumbledore is a munipulative prick, Hermione is in Ravenclaw and isn't that close to Harry and Ron. Influenced by beforyouspeak's The Black Prophecy, Maxx_Mouse1441's Daughter of Darkness, and SkullChaser's The Once and Future Queen (all great Bellamione works).





	1. Everything Goes (Wrong)

**Author's Note:**

> First off, a warning. This chapter includes rape and familial murder. It is not a graphic depiction of either. The depictions of trauma throughout this story are more graphic and (by-and-large) mirror my own PTSD, anxiety, and depression symptoms. I do not have self-harm or graphic alcoholism in this story, as I cannot write it without triggering myself.  
> While most of this story is written in closer first person, much of this chapter is explanatory and written in distant third. I write in close third person so I can depict the world through a character's eyes without using first person (which I'm bad at writing in). Throughout this story, the person the narrator is close to will change, mostly between Hermione and Bellatrix.  
> Lastly, this chapter is only leading up to Hermione's enrollment in Hogwarts. If you've finished reading this lengthy note, I'm impressed. Be my beta? Please? I don't have one and I'm still writing more of this story (I have fifty pages so far). Please help.

A man in black robes sprinted up the stairs, anxiety written over his face.  
“My love,” he said, desperately attempting to appear calmer than he was. “They’re coming. Hide her, please.” His wife nodded and ran towards the nursery on the second floor, where their daughter was. The explosion behind her said she was too late.  
“Seamus MacEcrae,” a voice boomed from the splintered doorway. “You are under arrest for aiding and abetting a known fugitive, for the murder of wizards and muggles, and for tax evasion. Surrender now.” Turning towards the door, Seamus glared at the man in blue robes with star-shaped spectacles. He was not who had spoken, but he was responsible.  
“Get out of my home you English invaders,” he growled, Irish accent clear as he drew his wand. The man who had spoken, a scarred old man in a trench coat, moved quicker. In an instant his wand was out, pointed towards Seamus.  
“Last chance,” he said. Seamus growled and let off a curse. The orange light flew towards the blue-robed man, who turned it away with ease. The battle began in earnest, spells flying as the rest of the strike team made their way into the mansion. Seamus knew he wouldn’t survive this. He just had to buy enough time for his wife.  
That was the last though Seamus MacEcrae would ever have. Seconds later, a straw-haired man leapt up the marble stairway, and shouted, “ _SECTUMSEMPRA!_ ” Seamus could feel the darkness pull his body apart as his flesh split in a wide line from neck to navel.  
The men who had invaded his home stepped over him while he lay bleeding on his own stairway. They pushed their way into the nursery, only to find it was empty. The next door bedroom was not. As they entered a woman burst into sight, flinging curses. Two of the men fell to hexes, three others to the Killing Curse, until the blue-robed man waved his wand. A jet of green light extended from it. Her eyes widened as she looked at the man who had killed her, then fell over.  
In the bedroom closet they found the child.  
“What should we do with her?” asked the straw-haired man. Everyone looked to the man in star-shaped spectacles.  
“Put her in a muggle orphanage,” he said, eyes twinkling with delight. “In England.” The men around him laughed as one scooped up with child, only months old, and disapparated.

 

The woman who would later become Hermione Granger was born on the 1st of May, 1978. She was not, however, born to Ian and Jean Granger, nor to anyone possessing that surname. She was born to Guinevere and Seamus MacEcrae. Her mother was the descendant of Morigena Le Fay, of Gwydion fab Don, and of the House of Cunedda, ancient rulers of Gwynedd and northern Wales. Her father was the descendant of Mug Ruith, of Nail Noígíllach and the House Uí Niell, and of King Solomon. This marriage and been long planned, since the days when the Uí Niell ruled Ireland and the Cunedda ruled Gwynedd. Although their families were no longer kings or queens, they still ruled, through money, magic, and power behind the scenes. They named their daughter Hermione, after the child of Menelaus of Sparta and Helen of Troy, another powerful couple who had tried to unite two parts of the world. Seamus and Guinevere hoped their marriage would be better than Helen and Menelaus’.  
Seamus MacEcrae was close ally of the Dark Lord and his plans. He had rallied the noble houses of Ireland and Wales to Voldemort’s side in the first war. He had wooed them with tales of autonomy and home rule, the dreams of the Irish Houses since the Norse Conquests. Despite the independence of Ireland in the muggle world, its magic was still within the British realm. His plans, however, had not worked out. While most of the noble houses were able to talk their way out of the mud post-war with claims of Imperius curses and death threats, the MacEcrae were not so lucky. Seamus MacEcrae died two days after the Dark Lord fell, and Guinevere minutes after him. English aurors had entered their home after disabling their wards, despite being on Irish soil. Seven aurors had died, and their daughter was thrown into an English orphanage. Not only an English orphanage, but an muggle English orphanage. It was her parent’s worst dreams come true.  
Fortunately, Hermione was adopted after less than a year at the orphanage. Her new parents were Ian and Jean Granger, both dentists, although they worked in separate practices. For a time all was well. Ian and Jean took care of Hermione, and loved her as they would their own flesh and blood. They went shopping with her, helped pick out her clothes and were so kind, even if Ian's gaze lingered a little too long. They helped with her homework on the rare occasions she needed it. She was brilliant academically, which meant she was bullied in school. Her parents’ support helped keep her determined, however, and she plowed on, speeding ahead to trigonometry and The Three Musketeers by year three.  
That was the year everything changed. Her father was fired by a petulant boss, and quickly turned to drinking. He became angrier, darker, and louder. He yelled at Hermione and staggered around the house with a bottle of whiskey in his left hand. Her mother bore the brunt of his aggression. Hermione could hear them yelling from downstairs, even as she tried to hide herself in books and problem sets.  
Hermione’s first major burst of magic occurred only three years later. Her father moved to hit her mother, but was repelled by an unseen force. This did not sit well with him, and Hermione became his focus as he swore and beat her. Her mother tried to stop him, but he punched her and she fell to the floor. He moved over, grabbing a knife and shoving it into her chest. Shouting slurred words about how Hermione had made him do this, he tore off his daughter's clothes and began to rape her.  
Hermione cried for the next three days. She stayed in her room, not daring to go outside and face the monster her father had become. On the third day, her door had opened. She hid under the bed, fearing her father’s wrath. But he had not opened the door. A woman in a constable’s uniform stepped through the door, squatting at the bed.  
“Hullo,” she said in a soft voice. “I’m Constable Dougherty, but you can call me Gabby. Can you tell me your name?” Hermione tried to speak, but nothing came out. Her throat was dry from lack of water and raw from crying. Watching her, the constable’s eyes grew wide with concern.  
“Have you had anything to eat today?” she asked, checking her watch. It was close to 7pm. Hermione, still hid under her bed, bushy hair pushing up against the bed frame, shook her head. “Why don’t you come with me,” the constable said. “We can get you some food and something to drink down at the station.” Hermione fought the urge to crawl further under her bed. This might be the only chance she had to leave her father’s grasp, and she was damn well going to take it. She nodded, and began crawling out from under the bed. Constable Dougherty smiled, and led her towards the stairs. On the first step Hermione wobbled, and the constable had to catch her on the next.  
“Do you want me to carry you?” she had asked. Hermione shook her head. She needed to do this. She too the constable’s arm, however, and the two slowly made their way down the stairs.  
When they arrived at the station, Hermione underwent a quick medical check. All was well, but when the male nurse went to touch her, she flinched, flinging herself back into a chair. Constable Dougherty checked her pulse and hydration instead. The girl was clearly malnourished, and not just from the three-day fast. They would later find out she hadn’t had a proper meal for almost a year. She tried to refuse going to the hospital, despite the nurse and constable insisting. Hermione finally gave up after she collapsed. She had tried to stand up from the chair to prove she was fine, and almost blacked out. On the way to the hospital, Hermione fell asleep.  
She woke up in a bed, wearing a hospital gown. She looked up, and saw a doctor (Brad Hill) moving to change her IV bag. She screamed, waking up Constable Dougherty who had been napping in the corner.  
“Hey, it’s okay luv,” the constable said, rushing over the Hermione’s bed. “He’s just making sure you stay hydrated and fed. He won’t do anything.” Hermione nodded and took in a deep breath, and then another, forcing down her tears.  
Hermione was discharged from the hospital at 10:22am the next morning. She was glad to be wearing her own clothes again. The gown had felt too vulnerable. On the drive back to the station, Constable Dougherty explained what was happening. On the night her father had raped her, a neighbor had called the police. They had knocked on the door, but Ian Granger had told them to “bugger off.” Constable Dougherty censored that part.  
The costables had then gone to get a warrant so they could search the house and make sure Hermione and her mother were okay. Unfortunately, the magistrate for her area was more than a little misogynistic.  
“Do you know what that means?” Constable Dougherty had asked. Hermione nodded.  
“It means he thinks women are worth less than him,” she said quietly. “And that he has political connections.”  
“Why does it mean he has political connections?” Constable Dougherty had asked. Hermione smiled for the first time in more than a year.  
“How else would someone so dumb become a magistrate?” Constable Dougherty liked that one. She laughed aloud as she drove, and was still chuckling when they pulled into the station.  
“So,” Hermione said, the grin not yet gone. “When can I see my mother?” Looking up at the constable’s eyes, the grin fell off.  
“Hermione,” the constable said softly, squatting to be at eye level. “Your mother, she didn’t make it.” Hermione’s mouth fell open, and her eyes watered. “He stabbed her. We think after you had passed out and locked yourself in your room.” The small eleven-year-old began crying, her eyes flooding with sorrow. She fell into the constable’s embrace.  
Fortunately, Hermione did not have to testify at the trial. The police had more than enough evidence, and did not want to put her through the pain. Unfortunately, she was now back in the foster care system. Little had changed in the ten years she’d been gone. The food was the same, the funding the same, the attitudes the same. The only thing that had changed was that there were even more children.  
The letter came three weeks after her father had been arrested, on the 29th of June. The letter read:  
_Dear Miss Granger,_  
_It is my pleasure to invite you to attend the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry this upcoming school year. Although you may not know it, you are indeed a witch, a woman with magical energy and powers. This may be hard to come to terms with at first, however I am sure that upon thinking of your past you will realize that magic explains many of the inexplicable experiences you have had._  
_Attached to this letter is a list of courses you will be taking should you enroll, along with the necessary school supplies. There is also a map of Diagon Alley and directions of how to get there. School starts on the first of September. Please board the train at platform 9 and ¾ before 10:30, as the train leaves at 11 o’clock sharp. We look forward to having you at Hogwarts._  
_Sincerely,  
_A.P.W.B. Dumbledore, Headmaster__

 

 

 

Hermione was indeed shocked at the letter. She read and re-read it dozens of times over the next week, trying to make up her mind on whether this was real or a prank. In the end, she decided, there was only one way to find out. In the early morning of July 8th, Hermione Granger snuck out of the Stockwell Orphanage of London and made her way downtown. She used her father’s credit card to purchase coins for the Underground, and was soon off. She arrived at the location and was soon facing a brick wall. She re-read the letter once more, and then closed her eyes, hoping for the best. Tapping a brick, the wall soon rearranged itself.  
Hermione walked through, looking around quite confused. She seemed to have walked into a rather homely pub. She slowly made her way through, gripping her bag. She carried most of her possessions in that bag and wasn’t about to lose it to a group of drunks. She quietly walked through the pub and out the other side. Looking around, she smiled. Families were walking the streets, people were laughing and talking, and there was even an ice-cream shop. Shaking her head, Hermione pulled out the list, slowly mumbling to herself before decided to go and get a wand first.  
Ollivander’s was everything she could have wanted and more, once she got past the old man measuring her.  
“Always happy to see a new student,” Ollivander said, moving towards his desk. “That’ll be six galleons and eleven sickles.” Hermione’s eyes widened, and she took a step back.  
“Oh, um, all I have is m-my father’s card,” she said. “How do I get those?” Ollivander smiled at her, trying to calm the young girl’s nerves.  
“Ah, you’re a muggleborn! No worries, just head down the street to Gringotts. The goblins will set you right up, you can transfer as much as you want. I’ll keep the wand safe until you can come back.” Smiling nervously, Hermione took off at a quick pace, barely managing to avoid a run.  
At Gringotts she was indeed able to set up an account. While the goblins could be surly, they were happy to finally work with someone who seemed to respect them. Most wizards looked down on goblins, both figuratively and literally. Hermione did so only literally, instead treating them with the respect one showed bankers in the muggle world.  
“How much do you want to transfer miss?” the goblin, Gripnear, had asked. Hermione paused. She thought for a minute. Did she ever want to go back? To what? she thought bitterly. There’s nothing left. Might as well move on. Taking a deep breath and rolling her shoulders to try and de-tense, she answered.  
“All of it.”  
All of her father’s money was not much. Between alcoholism, the mortgage, and the money he had spent hiring a lawyer, there was very little left in the joint family account. But it would be enough to get her supplies, and to find somewhere to stay until school started. She hoped so, anyways.  
As it turned out, her hopes were not pies in the sky. The Leaky Cauldron, as the homely pub was called, had several rooms that were rarely used. The price was more than fair, and often came with a meal and kind words from Tom, the owner. Hermione was content for the first time in years. She had escaped her father, and she had her books. She had already read, re-read, and taken notes on every chapter of the school books. Still, her trauma and her mother’s death weighed heavily on her. Although content for now, she was not happy and could not find peace.  
This trouble was most clear when she tried to sleep. It rarely came to her, and then only in bits and pieces, interrupted by nightmares that forced her awake, dripping with sweat. She slept little, yet more than she had for the past year and a half. She left the pub early and stayed up late into the night, always reading. She spent her days at the bookstore, browsing through titles and reading them cover to cover. It was the best summer she’d had in years.


	2. Thestrals are a Girl's Best Friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione starts year five! Un-beta'd. Trigger warning for self-hatred and guilt complexes (appear briefly). Featuring Ginny/Luna and emotional healing goddess Luna.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so year five. Yes, I'm skipping a lot. Mainly because I don’t feel like rehashing the books I’m not changing much and because the things I’m changing in the early books make her life much more boring. I don’t want to write eighteen pages on how Hermione sat in the library and ate infrequently when I can explain in one. And trust me, I’m terrible at writing filler. You wouldn’t want to read my eighteen moping library pages.  
> Also, in this fic Hermione was sorted into Ravenclaw. Reading and learning was her escape in the books as well, but since this fic gives her a much more traumatic background, it would make sense that she would need to escape more, and thus would thirst after learning more than anything else. She was still involved in the climactic events of the first four books, mainly because she's bad at saying no.  
> 

Hermione woke as she always did: far too early. The sun was still hiding behind the horizon, and no civilized person would be up now. But Hermione was.

Leaving the Leaky Cauldron, she went for an early morning jog around Diagon Alley. She wore muggle clothes, as wizard robes are terrible for running, opting for athletic shorts and a sports bra. After running the length of the street (and some of Knockturn Alley as well) she quietly moved through the Leaky Cauldron to continue her run in the city. London was far noisier than Diagon Alley, even at this hour. Kebab trucks and chippie shops were already open, and the sound of honking car horns filled the air. Smiling to herself, Hermione ran for another mile before heading back the same mile.

When she re-entered the Leaky Cauldron, Tom was behind the bar.

“Merlin, ‘Mione!” he exclaimed. “You ever gon’ take a break?” Hermione simply smiled and shook her head as she wiped sweat off her brow, heading back to the room she rented. The room she always rented. “No comeback?” the man asked. “What has you in such a good mood?” Hermione turned around, her smile wide and eyes twinkling.

“My fifth year starts today,” she replied. Tom smiled. He knew Hogwarts wasn’t kind to her, but learning was what she lived and breathed.

“Ah, yeah,” he said. “Say,” he continued, leaning in conspiratorially. “Me and some regulars have a pool goin’. Over how many books you’ll read ‘tween now and Christmas. Any chance you’ll break five hundred?”

"What’d you bet on Tom?” she asked.

“Over, of course. Only Dennis and his mates bet ‘gainst you. And Crabbe and Goyle, but they’re dumb as rocks.” Hermione laughed and smiled again.

“Well,” she said, stepping away from Tom with a nearly menacing smile. “We’ll teach them not to beg against me.” Laughing, she turned around and walked into her room, closing the door. She was still chuckling at the pub betting pool hours later as she boarded the Hogwarts Express.

“Hey ‘Mione,” she heard a voice say. She took in a deep breath. It was Ron. “Wanna sit with us?” She smiled politely.

“Don’t you have something prefect-like to do?” she asked, pointed at the silver medallion on his chest.

“Oh, um, yeah,” the eloquent fifth-year stated. Turning away, she rolled her eyes and moved further down the train. As she passed one compartment, she heard a more pleasant voice.

“Hello Hermione,” the voice spoke in a soft, almost musical tone. “It’s nice to see you again.” Hermione turned around to look at Luna Lovegood, the owner of that voice, smiling at her. “Will you be sitting with us this train ride? I do have some nargle-repellent, and they seem to have infested both Draco and Ronald’s compartments.” Hermione bit back a laugh. She couldn't tell if Luna really saw nargles or not. What she did know was that it was Luna’s own way of saying they were both acting like gits.

“Yeah, ‘Mione,” another voice, far more boisterous, said. “You sitting with us or what?” This voice belonged to Ginny Weasly, who had her arms wrapped around Luna as the blonde leaned into her.

“You sure you two don’t want some alone time?” Hermione asked, cocking an eyebrow. She loved Luna and Ginny. They were probably her only friends, when she stopped to think about it. Sure, Harry, Ron, and a few others were nice enough, but that was because they wanted help with their homework. Ginny and Luna didn’t demand or expect anything from her, besides company. But just because she loved them didn’t mean she wouldn’t tease them. Ginny laughed off her suggestion, but Luna replied.

“No, I think we’re good for now. After this morning’s post-breakfast activities, wouldn’t you say love?” Luna had turned around to look her girlfriend in the eye. Ginny’s face was bright red, matching her flaming hair. She stuttered as Hermione entered the compartment and sat across from them. Hermione couldn’t help but giggle at the normally smooth-talking Gryffindor. The train ride was pleasant. Even Ginny enjoyed herself once she regained the ability to speak. As the train was pulling into Hogwarts, she broke open a new topic. “So,” she said casually.

“What do you think’s gonna go wrong this year?” Hermione rolled her eyes.

“What won’t might be a better question,” she replied. “I may not have seen you this summer, but that doesn’t mean I stopped reading. All we’re missing are a few more death threats and we’ll be done for the year.” Luna giggled at the joke. She loved dark humor, despite what most would think. As they moved from the train to the carriages, Hermione patted one of the thestrals pulling it. She’d always loved horses, even if they were magical, skeletal, and more than a little creepy. Entering the carriage, Luna looked questioningly at her.

“Hermione,” she said. “I didn’t know you could see thestrals.” Hermione simply shrugged as Ginny looked at the two of them.

“The whatsits?” she asked. “Thestrals,” Luna replied.

“They’re what’s pulling our carriage love.”

“There’s something pulling our carriage?”

“How did you think they moved?” Ginny looked at the floor of the carriage.

“Magic?” she said. Luna laughed and kissed her on the cheek.

“Ginny , you are wonderfully adorable at times.”

After a few minutes of cuddling Luna, Ginny seemed to remember the topic.

“Wait, so, if there’s these thestral thingies, why can’t I see them?”

“Because you’re lucky,” Hermione mumbled under her breath. Ginny still heard her.

“Wait, why’s it lucky to not see them? Are they that ugly?” Hermione smiled for a bit, although it never reached her eyes. She was nervous. Ginny would want to know. _What will she think_ , Hermione thought. _Will we still be friends? Who’d want to be friends with someone who got her own mother killed?_ Fortunately, Luna stepped in. “Because you can only see them if you see someone die,” the blonde witch said. Ginny stopped her movement, which was impressive. She was always moving, bouncing a leg up and down or playing with one of the rubber bands Hermione brought her. She looked towards Hermione, who was staring out the window. “Oh,” Ginny said, simply. “Sorry about that.” “Wasn’t your fault,” mumbled Hermione. “She’s right love,” said Luna, before turning her gaze to Hermione. “It’s not yours either though.” Hermione didn’t reply. The rest of the carriage ride was in silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, I do have a beta now, they just haven't had the time to review yet. If anyone else would like to beta as well, let me know.  
> Lastly, updates will be once a week for now, on either Mondays or Tuesdays. They will likely become more frequent once the editing process catches up to where I've written (32 chapters so far, all in desperate need of editing).


	3. Taking Umbrage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione's 5th Year, complete with anti-Umbridge angst

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this chapter is much shorter than I remembered. Hence, I'll be uploading two tonight. Enjoy!  
> Also, I forgot to mention earlier that I don't own anything. Not just any of this, anything in general. I have a buck-85, a limp and cold piece of Domino's pizza, and some used, unwashed ramen cups.

Hermione hated Umbridge. Hated her with a passion. She could deal with assholes anywhere and everywhere else, but classrooms were supposed to be her escape. Learning was supposed to be her escape. Not anymore. _It’s hard to learn from a professor who doesn’t know anything._ Hermione thought she’d simply thought that remark. She realized she hadn’t when the entire classroom went silent and even Harry Potter, The Boy Who Couldn’t Keep His Mouth Shut, looked in awe at her.

 

“That’s detention, Ms. Granger,” the pink-clad professor hissed at her. “For the next week.” The rest of her lessons were far more interesting. Still, Hermione went through them in a sort of daze. She couldn’t believe she’d said that out loud. It’d been years since something like that happened. Last time it did… No, she thought. Let’s not think on that. Shaking her head to clear it, Hermione turned back to the potions class. Hermione showed up at Umbridge’s office for her detention that night. Sure enough, the woman was waiting for her, still in the atrocious hot pink outfit and sporting the cruel smile that would soon define her at Hogwarts.

 

“Miss Granger,” she said, voice dripping with false sweetness. “Come in.” Hermione followed her into the room, where there was a desk and a quill set up, along with two pieces of parchment. “You’ll be writing what’s on the sheet,” Umbridge said. “Five hundred times should be enough for it to. . . sink in.” Hermione nodded, not yet understanding what would happen.

 

“May I borrow your ink?” she asked. Umbridge shook her head.

 

“There’s no need for ink,” she replied. Sitting at the desk, Hermione looked at the parchment. “Mudbloods will not challenge professors,” it said. Hermione bit down her rage and began writing, dating it at the top, 3/9. It wasn’t until the fifteenth line that Hermione noticed the pain in her hand. Looking down, she saw faint white lines across her skin. She shrugged and kept writing. It made sense that Umbridge would use blood quills.

 

“Excellent,” Umbridge said when Hermione finally stood. “I’m glad the message has sunk in. Why don’t you keep the parchments, as a reminder?” Hermione managed to keep her face blank as she thought about burning them. She then turned to leave when Umbridge called out again. “Oh, Miss Granger.”

 

“Yes, professor?”

“I’ll know if you throw it out.”

 

When Hermione entered the Ravenclaw common room, Luna and Ginny were studying. Technically. Really, Ginny was distracting her girlfriend with soft kisses on her neck while Luna read aloud from their textbook. Both of them noticed when Hermione walked in, defeat and dejection written on her face.

 

“Hey, ‘Mione, what’s wrong?” Ginny asked. Hermione just shook her head.

“No, I’m fine,” she replied.

“Are you sure?” Luna asked. “There’s a heap of wrackspurts following you.” Hermione tried to respond, to say she was fine, but the words wouldn’t come out. Instead tears began falling from her eyes. _Damn it,_ she thought. She could never cry when she needed catharsis, only when she didn’t want to. Shifting Luna onto the chair, Ginny stood up and walked over to Hermione.

 

“What’s wrong, ‘Mione?” she asked again, opening her arms. Hermione fell into them. She’d learned to appreciate the red-headed witch’s affection the past couple years, as well as Luna’s. Speaking of Luna, she also joined the hug.

“Hermione,” she said. “We’ll always be here for you.”

“What she said,” Ginny added. Ginny went to hold Hermione’s hand in comfort, but found the top slick with something. Looking at her hand, she stepped out of the hug. “The fuck, ‘Mione? Why’s your hand covered in blood?” Hermione choked down her tears.

 

“I had detention with Umbridge,” she said quietly.

“That doesn’t really explain much,” Ginny said. Hermione looked into the Gryffindor’s eyes.

“She had me write lines. Using a blood quill.”

“The hell? Alright, we’re getting you to Pomfrey.” Hermione shook her head.

“It’ll be fine.”

“No, it won’t. You need to take care of yourself ‘Mione. You’re bleeding onto the carpet right now, and you just cried for a few minutes when I asked what was wrong. We’re going to Pomfrey.” Luna simply looked at Hermione. The brunette sighed. She’d never win a test of wills against Ginny Weasley. No one would.

 

“She’s doing WHAT to my students?!” Madame Pomfrey was not amused. “Get me the headmaster, now.” Ginny looked at her, and then looked at Hermione. “I’ll take care of her,” Madame Pomfrey said gently. “Just run over and tell Dumbledore I need to speak with him.” Ginny ran off. Nothing was motivating like Madame Pomfrey’s anger. “Alright then,” she said, turning to Hermione. “Now, Miss Granger, fixing your hand will be relatively simple. Proving that Dolores Umbridge is using blood quills will not. Do you still have the lines you wrote.” Hermione nodded, her eyes glued to the floor. Putting a hand on her shoulder, Madame Pomfrey continued. “Don’t worry dear. I won’t let her harm you. I just need to take some of your blood, the blood on your hand, and the parchment to prove they all match. Is that okay?” Hermione nodded. With a few quick waves of her wand, three small tubes were filled with blood. “That’s all dear. Now, let’s see to that hand of yours.” Hermione’s hand was better by the time Dumbledore came strolling into the medical room, and quietly excused herself. She wasn’t sure why, but she never felt comfortable or safe around him.


	4. Questionable Results

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this house, we hate Dumbledore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's another mini-chapter! But also super plot-important, as it will be one of the moments that cause Hermione do act a certain way later on.  
> Also, why does History of Magic get so much shit? I mean, I know a ghost would be a terrible lecturer, but it's full of disturbing facts and wars against goblins and ancient, powerful wizards. That shit's interesting!  
> Rant's done, enjoy the chapter!

 

 

 

The next day, Hermione was sitting in her History of Magic class. She’d talked to Luna about the class several times over the years. Neither of them could understand why people seemed to hate the class so much. Luna loved learning in general, and especially about things no one knew about. Hermione loved learning forbidden knowledge, and much of what they were taught had been banned by white-washing administrations. Although, she thought as she listened to Professor Binns drone about the Wand Wars, he could learn to be more captivating. He was a terrible lecturer.

 

Hermione was pulled from her reverie by a second-year student pulling at her robe.

 

“Miss Granger,” she said. “Madame Pomfrey needs to see you.” With a sigh, Hermione packed her things. As boring as the Professor Binns was, she’d been looking forward to this lesson. She had been hoping to ask some of her goblin friends how inaccurate they found the wizarding account of the Wand Wars. Instead Hermione found herself walking towards the medical room, where Madame Pomfrey stood nervously. She was wringing her hands and trying not to seem jittery.

 

“Ah, Hermione,” she said. Hermione frowned. Madame Pomfrey never called her by her first name. She never called any student by their first name.

 

“What is it Madame--” Hermione was cut off by the headmaster sweeping into the room. His face contained thinly veiled anger.

 

“Excuse me, Miss Granger,” he said. “I need to talk to Madame Pomfrey immediately.”

 

“Of course, headmaster,” Hermione said, backing away. Pomfrey and Dumbledore went into her office, and Hermione closed her eyes, trying to listen into their conversation.

 

“ What is it?” Madame Pomfrey asked.

 

“You can’t tell her,” Dumbledore said.

 

“Why the hell not?”

 

“You can’t.” Dumbledore was growing angrier.

 

“Fire me if you want, but I’m--” Madame Pomfrey was cut off part way through. Hermione could’ve sworn she heard Dumbledore mutter “obliviate.” Opening her eyes, Hermione moved away from the door, hoping they wouldn’t notice her eavesdropping. Soon, the two of them walked back out.

 

“Ah, Miss Granger,” Dumbledore said, his smile-and-wink affect back. “I’m afraid the blood tests were inconclusive. Regretfully, we can’t trace anything back to Professor Umbridge. Good day,” he said, stepping out. Madame Pomfrey seemed lost in thought.

 

“Madame Pomfrey?”

 

“What--oh, yes dear, what is it?”

 

“What were you going to tell me?”

 

“Just what the headmaster said,” Madame Pomfrey replied with an uncharacteristic smile. “Don’t know why he felt the need to do it himself. Oh well, back to class with you.” Hermione went back to her class with a deep frown. Everything about this bothered her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to be clear, canon Dumbledore would, without a doubt, do everything he did in this chapter (except obviating a professor, that he might not do). Keep in mind that he had kids fights most of his battles for him, manipulated Harry into multiple semi-suicidal quests, and kept extremely important secrets for years, hoping he wouldn't die before book 6. Which, he could have. He had a dangerous life, and serious illnesses can pop up quickly, unless wizards can cure smallpox, cancer, ebola, and lyme disease.


	5. A (le)Strange Meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We skip ahead to the Battle of the Ministry of Magic, this time featuring Dark!Hermione, as well as an internal dialogue mocking Harry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone, thanks for sticking with this fic! I am utterly stunned that in less than a month more than 1000 people have read this and there's 84 kudos. Thanks so much, and I hope y'all continue to enjoy the fic.  
> This is another short chapter, I'll be publishing two tonight.

 

 _Of course,_ Hermione thought. _Of course this would be pointless, and why wouldn’t it go wrong?_ She was standing next to Ginny and Luna, looking at the group of Death Eaters in front of them. Her companions all bore faces of resistance, save for Luna, who still seemed at peace. Hermione sighed. What did her face look like? Probably dejection.

“Now!” Harry yelled. _What was the plan?_ Hermione thought, throwing a curse at the death eaters. _Whatever, there probably wasn’t one._ The group began sprinting away. Hermione followed Ginny and Luna. Curses were being hurled everywhere. A large man shoved past her and threw a hex at Luna, but missed. Swearing, he reached out to grab her.

Hermione reacted instinctively. She pointed her wand at him and in a quiet voice said, “ _Avada Kedavra_.” A jet of green light flew from her wand, slamming into the death eater’s back. He fell, and his grip on Luna loosened. Luna looked at Hermione, but Ginny pulled her along and the group started running again. Before she took off, Hermione looked back, and noticed a death eater staring at her. Hermione shook her head, ran, and quickly caught up.

The fight did not go well, much to Harry’s shock and Hermione’s expectation. He was surrounded, with his “friends” captured, in headlocks. She sighed. _Why do I bother helping,_ she thought. She knew why. She’d always try to protect Ginny and Luna. They were the only true friends she’d ever known.

Slowly, Hermione became aware of the words her captor was whispering.

“Who are you, little witch?” the captor asked. It was a soft, feminine voice. Hermione realized it must have been Bellatrix Lestrange. Her voice was so different from the insane cackle earlier.

“I saw that, you know.” Hermione gulped, but felt Bellatrix’s smile forming against her neck. “It was impressive. Was that your first time?” Hermione nodded, barely aware of what was happening around them.

“All the more impressive then. I should probably thank you, that was my husband you killed.” Hermione gasped, and Bellatrix chuckled softly. “Don’t worry little witch, you did the world and me a favor. He really was a brute, even by the Dark Lord’s standards.”

When the fighting resumed, Bellatrix pushed Hermione away, drawing her wand and reentering the fray. Hermione simply stood for a brief while, looking around the room. What had just happened? She shook her head. There would be time to figure that out later, if she survived. On the stairs she saw Harry trying to cast the killing curse. She bit back a laugh. He couldn’t even manage a flicker of green light.

The fighting was chaos, and, of course, Dumbledore arrived at the last minute to save the day. _Really,_ Hermione thought. _You’d think he could show up early and save some lives one of these days._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, in this fic Bella's too distracted by Hermione to kill Sirius herself, so Dolohov got the kill.


	6. Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Death Eaters plus Hermione&Friends react to the battle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, it's another short one. The next chapter is full length and will come out on next Monday, that much I can promise. See y'all then!

Back at Malfoy Manor, Bellatrix grasped for air. Her lord was across the hall, laughing. “Crucio!” he yelled again, and she bit back her screams, flailing in the air. He’d been doing this for more than an hour, ever since they got back. As she got control of her limbs again, she tried to sit up. She failed.

“That should be enough,” the Dark Lord said. “Do not fail me again.” Bellatrix simply nodded.

“M-my lord,” she said, struggling to sit up. “One of the children there--”

“Yes?” he asked, turning to face her.

“One of them, she cast the Killing Curse.” He shrugged.

“Children are prone to fits of rage,” he said. “Potter tried to use it against you, did he not?”

“Yes, my lord. But hers--hers worked. She killed Rodolphus.” The Dark Lord’s snake eyes widened, becoming almost human again.

“Are you sure?” he asked.

“Yes my Lord.”

“Find out everything you can about this girl. She could prove of great use to us.”

“Thank you my Lord.”

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hermione was sitting in the Ravenclaw common room, reading, when Luna approached her.

“Hermione,” she said, voice tinged with concern. “Are you okay?” Hermione closed the book and forced a smile.

“Of course. I should be asking you that, how’s your neck?” Luna rubbed her neck. The death eater that had grabbed her had not been gentle.

“It’s better. I was talking about your emotions though. You killed someone. Are you okay?” Hermione bit back a gasp. She had hoped Luna wouldn’t notice that. Taking a deep breath, she responded.

“I’m fine with it. He tried to kill you. My aim was just better.” Luna nodded. Hermione thought she looked worried, but she could never tell with Luna. She went back to her book. School was closing soon, and Hermione was not looking forward to the summer. She managed to get a job in Hogsmeade, so at least she wouldn’t have to go back to the orphanage. Still, wiping down a bar was no one’s ideal holiday.


	7. Bellatrix Black, P.I.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bella briefly becomes a private investigator

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally! A chapter of actual length!

Bellatrix Black--yes, it was Black again, her husband had finally died--let out a growl. Her research kept revealing who this girl wasn’t, but never who she was. The Hogwarts registry said the girl was Hermione, and that she was an English mudblood. After a quick B&E, Bellatrix had found the muggle records, which weren’t any more descriptive. They just said she had been adopted as a baby by a young muggle couple from an English orphanage. The orphanage records said she was born on the 19th of September, 1979, and that she had been seven months old when adopted. It said she had been dropped off by her mother, an impoverished English woman.

But something had sounded off to her, so Bellatrix had tracked down the matron who had accepted Hermione into the orphanage. After some severe intimidation, she revealed that Hermione was over a year old when she was dropped off at the orphanage, and that a man had brought her there. As the woman described him, Bellatrix grew only angry and more confused. The lanky, straw-haired man in “funny clothes” was clearly Sturgis Podmore. He’d been a member of Dumbledore’s fan club during the first war.

It took Bellatrix two months to track him down. She’d seen him entering the old Black House with Mad-eye. She’d had a good laugh about that. Order of the Phoenix, set up in the Black family home? Her mother must’ve been turning in her grave.

Her lucky day finally arrived on the 11th of September. She cornered him in a dark alleyway in muggle London. She let out a growl, maintaining her insane and ferocious reputation. He went for his wand, but she was faster. With a flick of her wand he was frozen.

“My dear Sturgis,” she said, in a sing-song voice. “I think you can help me out here.” He tried to speak. “Sorry, I couldn’t hear you. What was that again?” Still under the effects of her spell, he barely moved his lip. With a dramatic sigh, she undid the spell and bound his feet and hands together.

“L-l-look,” he said, shaking on the ground. “I’ll give you what you want. I wanted out of this damn thing anyways, but he wouldn’t let me.” Bellatrix’s eyebrows crinkled. This wasn’t the Sturgis Podmore she remembered. He’d been brash, arrogant, and obnoxious. Not scared. Too dumb to be scared. Then she remembered the incident in December and laughed. He’d been in Azkaban for six months. Six months! And he was already broken. He looked up at her while she laughed, terrified.

“Alright deary,” she said as her laughter finally died down. “Tell me what I need to know and I’ll let you run far, far away. Stay in the country though, and I’ll kill you.” He nodded vigorously. “Now then, who was that girl you brought to the orphanage?” Sturgis looked up at her, confused.

“Th-that’s it? That’s what you want to know?” Bellatrix growled, and he quickly backtracked. “I-I can tell you about that, for sure, of course. She, um--I think it was a she--was in the MacEcrae house when we raided it. It was a couple days before we found you, I think.”

“Wait,” Bellatrix said. “So she’s Irish?” Sturgis nodded.

“100% sure she is. Absolutely. I think she was probably their kid, not too certain though. Never got to see the mother, though she must have been great at decorating, the house was beautiful, and, um, all I saw of the father was ten seconds of threats and a--oh, I should probably stop talking now.” Bellatrix was deep in thought. His words simply washed over her. The MacEcraes. That would explain why she couldn’t find anything, the whole family was supposed to be dead. But if that were true--

“Whose idea was it to put her in the orphanage?” she asked, cutting off Sturgis’ nervous rambling.

“D-Dumbledore. It was his idea. Th-they all laughed after he said it.” Bellatrix barely suppressed a growl. Of course he’d throw a pureblood Irish child into an English muggle orphanage.

“Leave. Now. If you’re still in this country in four days, you’re dead.” Sturgis nodded and ran away.

A few days later, Bellatrix snuck into the Ministry of Magic to look at their records for the MacEcraes. There were hundreds of documents, dating back over a thousand years, but she only looked at the most recent three. The oldest of the three was Hermione’s birth certificate, stating she had been born to Guinevere and Seamus MacEcrae on the 1st of May, 1978, and was a pureblood child. The next one, or two really, were the death certificates of Guinevere and Seamus. It claimed they had resisted arrest, and aurors had been forced to kill them. Bellatrix nearly growled when she saw the pictures of their corpses. Seamus had been left to slowly bleed out, and Guinevere had been hit with so many curses and hexes her entire body as discolored and disfigured. Shaking her head, Bellatrix moved on to the final document. She wasn’t sure what it was, but it was more recent than the others. Far more recent. From last year, in fact. She opened the folder it was in.

“Oh Morgana!” she exclaimed. It was the blood work Madame Pomfrey had done. The test showed conclusively that all three samples were Hermione’s blood, and that Hermione was indeed the lost MacEcrae heir. Looking at the MacEcrae property records and details, Bellatrix saw they were still possessed by the government. As were the Cunneda properties. Of course. She was going to kill Dumbledore. Or maybe Hermione would. One of them anyway. She had no doubt he was the one who had kept this from her.

Sneaking out of the Ministry, Bellatrix apparated to the Malfoy Estate, and walked back into the manor. She smiled as she walked through the doors. Only her sister smiled back.

“Narcissa dear,” Bellatrix said.

“Yes, Bella?”

“Is our Lord still here?” Narcissa looked up from the papers she was working on.

“Yes, he’s still. . .talking with Lucius. I think it is about Draco, although I am unsure. Why do you ask?” Bellatrix smiled.

“Nothing you need to worry about yet. I’ve just made some progress on my research.” Bellatrix suppressed a laugh as Narcissa looked up. Nothing could have freaked her sister out more than a calming banality. “I’ll see you soon, sister.”

Bellatrix walked across the manor to the parlor, where the Dark Lord usually held his meetings. She knocked before entering, but didn’t wait for a response. She saw Lucius sitting on the couch, trying to remain calm. She felt sorry for him. She’d never liked the man, but if this was about Draco it would affect her sister too. And she would always defend her sisters.

“Ah, Bellatrix,” the Dark Lord said, his voice low but high-pitched. It was almost a hiss. “It has been some time. I was beginning to think you had abandoned me.” Bellatrix’s eyes widened at that.

“Never my Lord,” she said adamantly. “I will always be by your side.”

“I am glad to hear it,” the Dark Lord hissed. “Now tell me, what have you been doing?” Bellatrix glanced questioningly at Lucius, before the Dark Lord nodded. “Lucius, leave us. Close the door when you leave.” Lucius swallowed hard, but nodded. As he walked out, Bellatrix sat in an armchair across from the Dark Lord.

“My Lord,” she said. “I’ve been looking into the girl from the ministry battle. It has taken some time to find anything. Her identity was well-hidden.”

“Indeed?” he asked. “Tell me, what did you find?” Bellatrix took a deep breath and pressed down her nerves. She’d better not be wrong.

“The records at Hogwarts claimed she was a mudblood,” she began. “But there is next to no documentation, even in the muggle world. She was accepted by an orphanage, which claimed she was born on the 19th of September, 1979.” The Dark Lord nodded, but seemed to grow impatient. Bellatrix sped ahead.

“The records claim she had been brought in by her mother. Something felt wrong, so I had an. . .entertaining conversation with the former head matron.” Bellatrix smiled at the memory, and felt her Lord smile as well. He loved when she was cruel. “She said the girl was older than the recorded date, and that a man had brought her in. Eventually I traced it to Sturgis Podmore.” The Dark Lord’s eyes widened at that.

“Sturgis?” he asked, both s's elongated. “Why would an Order member bring a child to a muggle orphanage?”

“Exactly what I had wondered, my Lord. I tracked him down and cornered him. This was the reason for my prolonged absence, my Lord. It took around three months to get him alone. He told me the girl he brought to the orphanage was taken from the MacEcrae house.”

“The MacEcraes?” her Lord hissed out. His eyes widened, then narrowed. “I was told their child had died.” Bellatrix nodded.

“So had I, my Lord. So I broke into the Ministry.”

“That was reckless,” her Lord hissed. “You could have destroyed our plans.”

“I know,” she said repentantly. “I thought it necessary. I guarantee that I was not caught.” After the Dark Lord nodded she continued. “I found her birth certificate, and the death certificates for her parents. There was no such declaration for her. Most interestingly, there was a set of bloodwork from last year. It had apparently been ordered by Madame Pomfrey, in an effort to prove the use of a blood quill by some Dolores Umbridge.” The Dark Lord nodded, his eyes flicking up to look into hers. “The test also showed she was the MacEcrae daughter. But the properties are still possessed by the Ministry. I think Dumbledore prevented her from finding out. Sturgis Podmore said that placing the MacEcrae daughter in an English, muggle orphanage had been Dumbledore’s idea.” The Dark Lord hissed, no words behind it.

“Of course he did,” the Dark Lord said, anger swirling around him. “The MacEcraes were among my most loyal followers, rivaling even you, Bella.” Bellatrix nodded. “They wanted Ireland and Wales to have some semblance of Home Rule. Of course he would put their only child in an English orphanage. That it was muggle one must have been an added benefit for him.”

“What should be done, my Lord?” Bellatrix asked. Her Lord paused, taking a moment to dismiss the red cloud of anger that had gathered around him.

“We get the bloodwork papers into her hands,” he said with a smile. Or as close to a smile as the Dark Lord could come. It dripped with cruel anticipation. Bellatrix could only hope the anticipation was about Dumbledore, not Hermione. Something about the young witch called out to her.

“Yes, my Lord,” she said. “I will see to it at once.” Her Lord nodded, and she stood up, bowing before she left. It was best not to risk his wrath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, what did y'all think? Please comment!  
> Also, about my use of canon racism as narrator descriptions: I like to write in close third person, ei, a third person who shares the character(s) world view(s). As of now, Bellatrix is still a pureblood supremacist, so she would think in those terms.  
> Lastly, the injury descriptions are on purpose. I find it ridiculous that the "good guys" would rather kill someone by stunning them and forcing them to watch as they fall hundreds of feet onto the ground, or by slicing someone in half, than simply killing them quickly and painlessly.


	8. Strange Presents

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione gets some birthday fan-mail.

Hermione woke early on the 19th of September. Her birthday.  _ Seventeen _ , she thought.  _ Whee _ . Hermione had never enjoyed her birthdays, not really. For a while her parents had celebrated them, before everything turned south. They’d always enjoyed it more than she had, even then.  _ Oh well, _ she thought.  _ At least I can stop pretending I don’t apparate _ . Hermione, in her quest to learn everything she could, had been apparating for two and a half years. She smiled, looking forward to practicing magic over the summer this year.

When Hermione made her way down to the Great Hall for breakfast, she was greeted by Luna.

“Hello Hermione,” the blonde-haired witch said, smiling. “Are you having a good birthday?”

“Better than last year,” Hermione said. It was true. Last year some Slytherins had decided that throwing her notes in water was a brilliant prank. They regretted their decision after she hexed them into next week. She smiled at the memory. It had been worth the week of detentions with Professor Sprout. It hadn’t been worth the loss of her notes though.

Sitting at breakfast, Hermione was reading the paper and looking over her schedule for the day when an owl began pecking at her hand. She looked up, deeply confused. It was a beautiful barn owl, and it had a note and a package attached. Still deeply confused, Hermione undid the bindings, and read the note first.

_ Hermione, my dear little witch, _

_ I thought you might appreciate this, especially today. I do hope you like it, I spent a long time putting it together. _

_ Yours truly, _

_ B. B. _

Hermione was still confused. Who did she know with the initials B.B.? She re-read the letter as she wracked her brain. She read it for a third time, then a fourth time. On the fourth time she noticed the phrase in the introduction.  _ Little witch _ . Bellatrix Lestrange had called her that during the ministry battle.  _ Bellatrix Black now, I suppose _ , she thought, looking over the letter once more.  _ I did kill her husband _ .

Slowly, she opened the package. It was a fairly large box, filled with various wizarding candies. Moving the candies aside, she continued to be confused. She began tapping the sides of the box, hoping to find some secret compartment.

“Whatchya doin’, ‘Mione?” She was pulled from her task by the voice of Ginny Weasley. Looking up, the redhead had her arm around Luna. She often joined the Ravenclaw table for meals, and had since they were official.

“Someone sent me something,” Hermione replied vaguely.

“Think it’s for your birthday?” Ginny asked.

“I don’t know,” Hermione replied, tracing over the box again. “Ah-ha!” She removed a thin sheet of paper, revealing a manila envelope that had been hidden in the lining of the box. Pulling it out, she accidentally knocked some chocolate frogs out of the box.

“Hey, woah, ‘Mione. Say, mind if I have one of these?” Ginny asked, pointing at a chocolate frogs.

“Sure, go ahead,” Hermione answered, captivated by the envelope. Ginny was quick to grab it, opening the package and biting into the frog.

“Don’t eat yourself sick love,” Luna said, leaning into Ginny.

“Oi won,” Ginny tried to say, mouth full of chocolate. Swallowing, she spoke more clearly. “I won’t, don’t--” she was cut off by Hermione.

“WHAT?!” the brunette witch yelled. It was loud enough that the entire hall quieted down for a moment to look at her, before going back to their conversations.

“What is it?” Ginny asked. Hermione looked up at the teacher’s table. Dumbledore wasn’t there. Breathing a sigh of relief, she answered.

“Remember when you dragged me to see Madame Pomfrey last year?” she asked Ginny. Ginny nodded. “Well, she took some samples and sent them to the Ministry for testing. To see if she could prove that it was a blood quill, and that Umbridge had ordered it. She-um-the next day, she sent someone for me during a class. She was acting weird, and was about to say something when Dumbledore walked in. He took her into her office and they got into an argument.” Hermione took a deep breath. That was all the opening Ginny needed.

“Dumbledore?” she asked incredulously. “He got into a row with Madame Pomfrey? What about?”

“I don’t know,” Hermione said. “Rather, I didn’t. All I heard was him saying ‘she can’t know,’ and Madame Pomfrey arguing. When they came out, he said the tests had been inconclusive, and then left. Pomfrey was acting very weird, all out-of-sorts, and said she didn’t have anything else to say. Looked kinda like Lockhart did when the Obliviate spell backfired.”

“You think he obviated her,” Luna said. It was a statement, not a question. Hermione gave a slow nod.

“Sorry, ‘Mione, that’s ridiculous,” Ginny said. “It’s Dumbledore. He wouldn’t do something like that, ‘specially not to his staff.” Hermione bit back most of her anger, but some still infected her tone.

“Really, Ginny? Then how do you explain this?” she said, thrusting the paperwork at her friend. Ginny looked over it, her eyes widening. Luna was reading over her shoulder.

“M-’mione, you know what this means?” Ginny finally said, looking up from the papers. She’d been staring at them for nearly half an hour.

“That Dumbledore lied to me,” she said with a growl.

“No,” Ginny replied. “I mean, yeah, that too, but this--this says your parents were Seamus and Guinevere MacEcrae. Do-do you know anything about them?” Hermione shrugged. Her knowledge of history followed oppressed communities more than wealthy pureblood families. “It-it’s common knowledge for a lot of pureblood families. Even blood traitors like mine,” she said with a smile. She glanced at Luna, unsure of how to proceed. Her girlfriend took over.

“How much do you know of Irish wizarding history?” the blonde witch asked.

“Not much,” Hermione said with a shrug.

“And Welsh wizarding history?”

“Next to nothing, I suppose.” Luna took a deep breath, and then continued.

“The MacEcraes and the Cuneddas--your mother’s family--they used to be Irish and Welsh monarchs. Their marriage was the event of the century. Everyone who was anyone came.” Luna took another breath, looking her friend in the eye.

“This part might be hard for you. They-they were supporters of You-Know-Who in the last war. Prominent ones. They supposedly all died in the aftermath, but my dad said that there was one daughter who’d never been found. Published a story about it in  _ The Quibbler _ something like fifteen years ago, in the first Crumple-Horned Snorlak issues. I can ask if he has a copy you could see.”

Hermione was utterly confused. A million questions raced through her head. She was a lost heir? Who had taken her? Who had killed her parents? Could she have avoided the foster care system? Avoided Ian Granger? Tears started forming around her eyes, and Ginny reached over, patting her hand.

“Hey, it’s gonna be okay. We’ll help you. I’m sure Luna’s dad knows a lawyer who could help, he’s been sued enough--” Ginny was cut off by her girlfriend.

“Oh yes! Dad knows a good lawyer, a few of them actually. One of them--I think it was Jonathan Yewly--he helped dad when the death eaters Harry named sued him, did it for free too. I can write dad to ask him if he’d be willing to help you, if you want.” Hermione nodded, still lost in her thoughts.

“That’d be great, thanks Luna,” she said quietly. Ginny reached out to take her hand.

“It’s gonna be okay,” Ginny said. “We’ll be here for you.”


	9. Dangerous Reading

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bella reads a book and learns something strange. Also talk of a possible age-gap relationship. Though if you're not okay with that, I am wondering why you're reading a Bellamione fic.

Back at Malfoy Manor, Bellatrix was smiling. Her nephew had told her of Hermione’s exclamation, and she had no doubt she had gotten the letter. After this success, the Dark Lord had ordered her to make Hermione her main focus. He desperately wanted the last of the MacEcrae and Cunneda lines on his side, as well as a testament to the monstrosity of Albus Dumbledore.

This is why Bellatrix found herself looking through the Malfoy Manor library at two in the morning. She’d been looking for any sort of connection between the Blacks and the MacEcrae of Cunneda, but she’d found nothing. She had almost given up when she found  _ The Ancient Prophecies of the Blacks _ . Sighing, she re-lit the room and opened the book, skimming through it. She was glancing over the prophecies, not sure what she was looking for. She was humming while she skimmed. Then she paused.  _ What was that? _ Looking back, she read over the passage again.

 

_ In the days of the second war, _

_ A pair of mated souls shall come to the fore, _

_ Met on opposing sides of darkened halls _

_ The eldest Black and the last hope of the Celts _

_ Both pure of blood, though one raised in mud _

_ Shall join together, a bond more powerful _

_ Than any rune or spell. _

 

_ Destined to fight them, are the snake and the goat _

_ Yet they will prevail, with help from the Weasel’s Lion and the Moon. _

 

Bellatrix sat back.  _ Fuck _ , she thought. The Dark Lord wouldn’t like this. At all. He didn’t like anything that left him with less power. What to do? She was a good occlumens, but not powerful enough to block out her Lord. But if she told him, he’d kill her. And Hermione. Her heart leapt into her throat at that thought. She wouldn’t let him kill Hermione. She couldn’t.

Bellatrix paced around the library, thinking and growing desperate. She stopped briefly, having heard footsteps growing closer. Her sister stood in the doorway, bathrobe wrapped around her.

“Bella dear,” she said in a tired voice. “What are you doing?” Bellatrix took a deep breath, trying to force down her emotions. It was hard, harder than before Azkaban. She’d forgotten what it was like to be presentable while in that cage.

“I-I can’t tell you,” she said, nerves clear in her tone and wringing her hands. “It-if you knew, you’d be in danger.” She heard her sister’s soft footsteps growing closer.

“I’m no stranger to danger,” Narcissa said, placing a hand on Bellatrix’s shoulder. “Tell me, what is it?” Desperately trying to remain poised, Bellatrix pointed to the book, still open to the prophecy, on the table.

“Accio,” Narcissa said quietly, the book landing neatly in her hands. She read it quickly. “Is this what’s bothering you?” she asked, looking up from the book. Bellatrix nodded. “But you don’t know if it’s about you.”

“Yes, I do,” Bellatrix said softly. “I felt it when we met.”

“You met this man?” Narcissa asked. “Who is he?” Bellatrix shook her head.

“Not a man,” she said quietly. “Your son knows her as Hermione Granger.” Narcissa took a step back, eyes widening.

“I thought she was a mudblood!”

“So did she. Let-let’s sit down, this will take a while.” While Bellatrix cleared off the table, Narcissa snapped her fingers and ordered some tea from the house elves. Once the tea was there and the house elf gone, Bellatrix went into a long-winded, rambling explanation of what had happened. It took a long time, as her tea was cold by the time she got to it.

“And-and I told the Dark Lord about her at first, and then when I returned, and now he knows about her and if he finds out about the prophecy he’ll kill her and I can’t have that I just don’t know what to do because I wouldn’t survive that and I’m so confused and--” Bellatrix took a deep breath, having run out of air. Narcissa took that moment to interrupt her.

“Oh Bella,” she said, leaning forwards. She caught her older sister in a hug, whispering reassurances and patting her back while Bellatrix tried not to cry.

“I don’t know what you should do either,” Narcissa finally said. “I’d say probably don’t tell him about the prophecy. You could bury the deceit. Say that you think seducing her is the easiest way to get her to join. But you’re right. If he finds that prophecy, he will try to kill you both.” Bellatrix nodded into her sister’s chest.

“Thanks Cissy,” she said, removing herself from the hug. “That--I think that’s a good idea. And it won’t be a lie exactly. I am going to seduce her.” Bellatrix smiled wickedly at the thought. Narcissa smiled back.

“Good,” she said. “That Lestrange tool kept you away for too long. I’m sure Hermione will enjoy your. . .skillset much more.” With a wink, Narcissa departed, heading back up the stairs. Smiling at her sister, Bellatrix broke away, and began writing Hermione a letter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I view this more as Bella playing with the term "seduction" and just being a Slytherin who was stuck in a bad marriage rather than being creepy. Also, sorry for my bad prophecy writing, I was never good at poetry.  
> P.S. So, MacEcrae is a completely fake name. But! The Ui Neill were the first long-reigning dynasty in Ireland, and the Cunneda were a prominent and powerful line of Welsh kings, before England had conquered either of them. That's some real history facts.


	10. Outwitting the Master

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione gets a lawyer, and begins the legal process.

The last few weeks had been exhausting for Hermione. In addition to her ten NEWT-level classes, she had been helping Ginny and Luna with their OWL work. They always asked her, which Hermione greatly appreciated. Harry, Ron, and most of the others would either wait for her to offer help or demand it. And, unlike the others, Hermione knew that Ginny and Luna were her friends, regardless of whether or not she helped them.

The most stressful work, however, had nothing to do with school work. She had been secretly meeting with the lawyer Luna had mentioned, Mr. Yewley. The secrecy was of utmost importance, as until the court acknowledged her as the legitimate heir to the MacEcrae and Cunneda estates, Dumbledore could stop them. Even though he was not the end-all and be-all of anti-Voldemort politics they way he had been during the first war, Dumbledore held much sway.

On the bright side, Hermione was getting letters. More than she’d ever gotten, all delivered by the barn owl. The first had been difficult to understand. It had simply read, “Yr wyf yn hir eich gweld chi, ychydig o wrach -B.B.” It had taken her a few days to even find out which language it was written in, although she should have found it sooner. Of course Bella would write to her in Welsh. On the morning she had translated it (to “I long for the sight of you, little witch”) another letter arrived. This one said “Ydych chi wedi’i dartys eto? -B.B.” or, “Have you solved it yet?” Hermione bit back a smile and wrote her own reply, choosing Irish gaelic as her language of choice.

“Ar chuir t ú amhras orm?” or, “Did you doubt me?” Hermione had no idea why she chose to write teasingly to the infamous Death Eater. It just felt right. She didn’t understand much of what she was doing those days, and Bella (as she was now thinking of her) felt right.

The letters flowed back and forth between the two witches, bringing delight to both of them. They became increasingly flirtatious as the weeks went on, and Hermione loved it, though she hid the letters from her friends. There was something about Bella she couldn’t describe, everything about her felt right.

Feeling this was about Bellatrix Black changed nothing about Hermione’s views on the war. Although she was furious at Dumbledore for keeping this from her, she hated Voldemort even more. Intellectually, she found his reasoning biased and viewed pureblood supremacy nothing more than the dying grasps of puritanical thought, the flip side of the ideology behind the Salem Witch trials and the Inquisition. Her heart hated him even more than her head. She had seen how he treated Bella at the ministry, and had no doubt he was far more cruel behind the scenes. He would pay for that.

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

The Yuletide break was coming soon, and Hermione wasn’t sure what she would do. Ginny had invited her to come to the Burrow for Christmas, but Hermione had declined. She didn’t want to see Ron, who looked at her like an object, and secret meetings would be far easier to do from the Leaky Cauldron.

Hermione was walking down the halls from Potions to Ancient Runes when she heard a commotion in the Great Hall. Running down the stairs and drawing her wand, Hermione saw her lawyer in the hands of two aurors. They seemed to be taking him to Dumbledore, and he was requesting to be taken, “Anywhere else! I’ll talk to anyone else! Not him!”

“What’s the meaning of this?” Hermione growled out, stepping in front of the aurors.

“We caught him trying to break in,” one of them said. She dressed well, in a trench coat that fit her far better than Mad-Eye Moody’s. The dark clothing made her pink hair pop even more. Hermione shook the gay ramblings from her head.

“No, he wasn’t,” she said.

“How do you know?” the other auror said, menacingly. He was taller than his partner, and used his height to try and tower over Hermione. She refused to flinch, looking him in the eye.

“Because,” she began. “He’s my lawyer.” Unfortunately, Hermione had chose precisely the wrong time to reveal that information. More students had found their way into the Great Hall, and Dumbledore had started down the steps. Gasps filled the room. Dumbledore waited for them to stop.

“Miss Granger, in that case would you mind sitting down with Miss Tonks, Mr. Yewley, and Mr…?” he paused questioningly, looking at the male auror.

“Chad Barker,” he replied, looking smug.

“And Mr. Barker?” Hermione looked around, wild-eyed. This was exactly the situation she didn’t want to find herself in. Fortunately, her lawyer took over. Prying himself free from the aurors, he straightened out his robes.

“I doubt there will be a need for that, Headmaster,” he said. “All I need is for you or Professor Flitwick to sign one piece of parchment.” He pulled out a stack of papers and scrolls from his briefcase, sorting through them. “Ah, here it is.” He smiled falsely at Dumbledore, who bore an equally false smile. “I had hoped to find Professor Flitwick, as you are undoubtedly busy. I do say,” he continued, pointing towards Dumbledore’s arm. “What happened to your hand?” The students, still gathered and watching the seen unfold, looked at Dumbledore’s hand. It was just a split-second before he covered it with his robe, but the students had seen the blackened and withered stump. They gasped.

“Mr. Yewley,” Dumbledore said bitterly, struggling to keep up his facade. “I appreciate your concern, but my hand is fine. If you accompany me inside, I can sign the form at once.” Mr. Yewley shook his head.

“No, I appreciate the offer, but I don’t want to bother you. Besides,” he said, smile turning into a smirk, “I prefer to have witnesses for legal documents.” A flash of anger crossed Dumbledore’s face before he got the better of it.

“Well,” he began to reply, but Mr. Yewley was already moving.

“Professor Flitwick!” he cried out, moving through the crowd towards the tiny man. “How have you been? Still torturing students with homework?” The grumbles from the crowd said it all.

“I’m surprised you remember the amount of homework,” the professor shot back with a smile, “Considering how little of it you did.” The crowd joined Yewley and Flitwick in laughing, and began to disperse a little.

“Professor, as enjoyable as talking to you is, I actually came here on business,” Yewley said, handing over the parchment. “I just need you to sign this, as Head of House, and testify to Hermione’s good character.” The professor nodded, looking over the paper, and signed it. He handed it back to Yewley before looking up.

“Well, get moving you lot!” the tiny professor squeaked. “Your classes aren’t boring enough to watch me sign a piece of parchment.” Laughing and grumbling, the students filed out of the Great Hall, moving back to their classes and common rooms. Professor Flitwick chose that moment to look up towards Dumbledore, and flinched. The headmaster’s eyes betrayed a cold fury. Hermione followed the aurors, accompanying her lawyer out. Behind her, she could just make out Dumbledore’s voice.

“You may have cost us the war, dwarf.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just so y'all know, most of the process around Hermione's inheritance is a dramatized version of what I had to do to get a legal name-change. My process was a lot more boring, but consisted of a lot of time filling out forms at the courthouse and waiting for background checks (it took the FBI around six months).  
> Hope y'all enjoyed it!  
> Like all fanfiction writers, I live for comments, kudos, caffeine, and junk food.


	11. Pub Talks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione meets someone interesting at the pub

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning of minor violence, talk about sexual assault.  
> Also, sorry for not updating last night, I had a migraine.

Hermione sighed. It was the morning of the 24th, and Hermione always felt down around the holidays. She’d said no to Ginny’s invitation so she could meet with her lawyer, but he was busy with the court proceedings. There was next to nothing for her to do. The court set the hearing date for the 27th, and as nervous as she was, there was nothing else she could do to prepare. She looked down at  _ The Insidious Institutions of Medieval Wizardry _ , the book she was reading. Hermione sighed again. The topic was interesting, but dear lord the writing was horrific. She had never seen eighteen adjectives used back-to-back before.

Hermione was so caught up in insulting this pitiful excuse of an author that she didn’t hear the newcomer entering the pub, or their conversation at the bar. Both were strange--it was not often that someone entered a pub in the morning, and even rarer that someone would give Tom a nervous quiver in his voice. Hermione didn’t notice anything until a hand was placed on her shoulder.

“Hello lo--” whatever this person was going to say was cut off by Hermione’s scream. It was eardrum piercing, and not where the young witch’s reaction ended. Hermione rose from the booth, instinctively grabbing the hand and turning around, forcing the elbow in until she heard a snap. Hermione slipped from the booth, fists ready, until she saw who it was.

“Bella?” she asked, staring into the dark witch’s eyes.

“Merlin, Hermione!” Bellatrix growled out, still holding onto her arm. “Do you always react that way?” Hermione stepped back, eyes wide with some kind of fear.

“S-sorry, I didn’t know it was y-you,” she said, voice quivering as she slowly stepped back.

“Can you heal it?” Bellatrix asked.

“Oh, um y-yes, I can,”  Hermione said, diving into her bag, trying to find her wand. “No, not that, not--ah, here we are.” Turning around, she faced Bellatrix again. “Hold you arm out please. I really am sorry,” she said softly, looking into the dark witch’s eyes. “ _ Repario ligmentum, _ ” she said, tapping her wand against Bella’s elbow. A gold light extended from the wand, covering the elbow as it healed.

“Ah,” Bellatrix said, bending her elbow and letting it pop. “That’s better.”

“Why are you here?” Hermione asked, no longer able to keep the question out.

“Perhaps we should speak in your room?” Bellatrix said, looking around. “This is hardly a private area.” Hermione looked around. The few patrons still at the pub were staring at them. She nodded, and led Bellatrix to her room, closing the door behind them. She cast a series of wards on the room, including a  _ mulfalto  _ charm, and locked the door. She turned around, and saw Bella sitting on her bed, legs crossed.  _ God, what legs _ , she thought, shaking her head. Now was not the time to lust after the death eater.

“Is this where you stay?” Bellatrix asked, glancing around the room. “It’s a bit small.” Hermione laughed as she approached her, sitting down next to her.

“Well not all of us have mansions,” she replied cheekily. Bella laughed, a much gentler sound than the maniacal laugh she used in battle. She ran a hand through Hermione’s hair, smiling at the smaller, younger witch.

“Actually, my dear,” she began. “I believe you own six or seven mansions and a few castles.” Hermione chuckled, aquessing to the older witch’s wishes, lying down so her head was in Bellatrix’s lap.

“Maybe, but the Ministry still has them.” Bellatrix rolled her eyes.

“It’s only a matter of time my dear,” she said, leaning down to look at Hermione. Her dark curls hung over the young witch’s head, tickling her. Hermione sighed, relaxing in her presence.

“I really am sorry,” she said again, looking into Bellatrix’s eyes. The older witch barely suppressed a giggle.

“You don’t need to apologize, little witch. You healed me. Besides, I’m far more interested in how you learned that.” Hermione swallowed. She’d never told anyone about this. But she didn’t want to lie to Bella.  _ Maybe it’s time to let someone in _ , she thought. Taking a deep breath, she sat up and looked into Bella’s eyes.

“I-it started with some basic police classes,” she said, struggling to meet the dark witch’s eyes. “I kept on from there. It was a bit of an obsession for a while. Spent most of my summers on it after-af-”

“After what?” Bellatrix asked, eyes full of concern. She placed her hand on Hermione’s, giving it a bit of a squeeze.  _ I’m not going anywhere _ , she thought. Hermione’s gaze dropped to their hands.

“After my dad,” she said, voice small. “A-after…” she took another deep breath, and tears began to spring from her eyes. Her body was trembling. Bellatrix had never thought her little witch could look so small or vulnerable. Wrapping her arms around Hermione, she brought the little witch closer. Hermione leaned on her chest, tears flooding across the corseted dress.

“There there love,” Bellatrix said, rubbing circles into Hermione’s back. “Take your time.” Hermione nodded, tears still falling as she tried to take deep breaths, pressing down her sobs.

“Do you know why I stay here?” Hermione asked, looking up at her Bella. She paused, wondering when Bella started becoming hers. She didn’t know, but it felt right.

“No,” Bellatrix said softly. “I figured you don’t get on well with the muggles who adopted you.” Hermione let out a dry, rasping laugh.

“That, dear Bella, is the understatement of the century. When I was eight, my dad, he got fired. He dealt with it poorly, mainly with alcohol.” Bellatrix nodded. She’d seen similar things herself. Her own father had been similar, in fact. “After a few months, he--he began to hit my mother, and then me.” Hermione’s voice no longer bore inflection. It had turned completely numb, which worried Bellatrix. She pressed a soft kiss to Hermione’s head, and the little witch snuggled deeper into Bellatrix’s embrace.

“The year I got my letter, he was worse than normal. A few months before it came, I saw him hitting my mom. I couldn’t stand it, and just wanted it to stop. This power, it flew out of me, and he got knocked into the wall. He-he didn’t like that.” Hermione’s tears were falling again, even as her voice remained numb. She needed to say this. Needed to finally tell someone, and her Bella was definitely that someone.

“He hit me, said he didn’t want to do it. That I-I-I’d made him. My mom tried to stop him. He hit her, then attacked her again. He-he raped me.” The tears had turned into a river, and Hermione’s body was wracked with sobs as Bellatrix pet her back, kissing her head, trying to do anything to bring some comfort to the girl. “I stayed in my room for three days, until the police came. Th-they said he killed her. Took me to the hospital, got me healed some. He-I think he’s still in jail.”

With that last bit, Hermione completely collapsed, flinging her whole body onto Bellatrix as they fell into her bed in the Leaky Cauldron.

“Anything I can do?” Bella asked. It took all her willpower to keep the word “love” from the end of that sentence.  _ When did I start loving her? _ Bellatrix asked.  _ I’ve only seen her twice. _ Hermione nodded against her shoulder, the brunette witch’s hair tickling against her neck.

“Hold me,” Hermione said, fully pressed against Bella as the two lay side-by-side.

“Of course,” she responded, wrapping her arms around her little witch and pressing a kiss to Hermione’s head. “I’ll never let go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like I said at the start of this fic, I write in close third person. "Bella" is a pet name, and only shows up when Hermione starts feeling comfortable with her. At least for now. Later, when Hermione is *very* comfortable with Bellatrix, the chapters from Hermione's viewpoint call Bellatrix "Bella," and the chapters from Bellatrix's viewpoint call Bellatrix "Bellatrix."
> 
> I hope this explanation didn't make anyone more confused than before reading it.


	12. An Invitation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellatrix mentions something Hermione wasn't expecting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for not updating on Monday! I forgot I hadn't done it already. Also, this is a short chapter, and so is the next one, so y'all get two tonight!  
> Also, these were two of the most fun chapters to write. Enjoy!

Bellatrix woke up. She scratched her head, unsure of when she had gone to sleep. Looking to her side, she saw Hermione and remembered where she was. Checking the time, it was four o’clock in the afternoon. She gently pet her little witch’s back.

“Come on, Hermione. It’s time to wake up.” The brunette grumbled, but flipped over, looking into Bellatrix’s eyes. “I never did tell you why I was here, did I?” Hermione shook her head. “I’m taking you to dinner,” Bellatrix said, mouth turning into a characteristic smirk.

“Wait, what!?” Hermione said, bounding out of bed. “When? Where? With whom? What’s the dress code? Do I need to bring a gift?” She began pacing around the room. Bellatrix walked over to her, smiling as she gently placed her hands around Hermione, hugging her from behind.

“Calm down little witch,” Bellatrix said into Hermione’s ear with a smile. “It’s just a family dinner.” Hermione turned around, glaring at Bellatrix.

“ _ Just  _ a family dinner?!” she said, almost screeching. “How the--I killed your husband! Why would you bring me to a family dinner? What do you even wear to these things?” Hermione was running her hands through her hair, incredibly stressed.

“Relax dear,” she said with a smile, staring at her witch. Slowly, she brought Hermione’s arms down, holding her hands in her own. “Yes, you killed my husband. I can assure you, the family I speak of will be very glad of that fact. Especially Cissy, she hated him almost as much as I did.”

“Why would--wait, Cissy? You mean Narcissa? As in Narcissa Malfoy? As in the  _ mother of the boy who has been tormenting me for years?! _ ”

“Well, when you put it like that, it does sound rather insane.” Bellatrix tisked as Hermione let out a groan, leaning into her. “Draco behaves much better when his mother is around,” she said. “And Cissy will absolutely  _ love _ you. She already bought you a heap of dresses that you could wear this evening.” Hermione staggered back, extremely confused.

“Narcissa Malfoy, the Ice Queen of Great Britain, upholder of Pureblood supremacy, bought me--who most people think is muggleborn--dresses?” Bellatrix laughed again, a cheerful sound. Hermione couldn’t help the smile it dragged from her.

“She is much kinder to family,” Bellatrix said, looking down at her little witch. “And she knows how much I feel for you.” Hermione looked up at her, wide-eyed.  _ Shit, _ Bellatrix thought.  _ I scared her. Damnit damn it damnit-- _ . Her thoughts were interrupted when the brunette witch stood up, pressing a kiss to her lips. It was so unexpected, so wonderful, that Bellatrix couldn’t help the little moan it brought forth from her. Looking down, the little witch was smiling at her.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that,” she said. Bellatrix felt her mouth betraying her, a smile wide as her face breaking out. “Alright then,” Hermione said, turning around. “We shouldn’t keep your sister waiting.”

“Tease,” Bellatrix grumbled. Nonetheless, she was smiling when she hooked her arm through Hermione’s and apparated the two of them to Malfoy Manor.


	13. Meeting the Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione sees Malfoy gardens and is introduced to the family-friendly version of Narcissa, much to her confusion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, tiny chapter. It was fun to write though, I love family-friendly!Narcissa

Hermione hadn’t expected the Malfoy Manor to have this beautiful garden. She wasn’t sure exactly what she’d expected--probably something out of Bram Stoker--but it certainly wasn’t a walkway garden bursting with winter jasmine and phlox in full bloom. The manor itself was less surprising: gothic architecture and heaps of old portraits, visible from the small windows. She heard Bella laugh beside her as they approached.

“We’re not pure evil,” she said. “We don’t cut people’s tongues out.” She then paused, leaning down to Hermione’s ear. “I find tongues to be quite useful, ” she whispered. Hermione shivered, and Bella ran her hand down Hermione’s spine, forcing the young witch to bite back a moan. Bella stood up, kissed Hermione innocently on the head, and went to knock on the door. Hermione followed, grumbling about mean witches, puns, and teasing.

Bellatrix managed to knock just once before the door swung open. Inside the doorway stood Narcissa Malfoy, the matron of pureblood ideology (at least to Hermione). Yet there she stood, a knowing smirk on her face.

“Hello sister,” she said in a drawling voice. “Who have you brought to my home?” Hermione could feel Bella’s eyes roll.

“Hello Cissy dear,” she said, voice falsely sweet. “I believe you’ve heard of Hermione MacEcrae?” She pulled Hermione along until she, like Bella, was standing directly in front of Narcissa. “I truly hope you do, seeing as how you bought her a ludicrous number of dresses.” Hermione struggled not laugh. Narcissa sighed.

“Ah yes,” she said, turning towards Hermione. “Since my sister seems to lack the manners to introduce us, I am Narcissa Malfoy.” Hermione forced a smile.

“Pleasure to formally meet you,” she said. “I am Hermione MacEcrae.”

“Charmed,” Narcissa said. “As my sister has already ruined the surprise, I do have some dresses you could wear tonight. Would you care to look at them?”

“It would be my pleasure.” Hermione moved to follow Narcissa into the hall, but Bella squeezed her hand.

“Well done,” she whispered with a smile. “You actually matched her manners. Most nobles fail.” Hermione grinned back, then walked quickly to catch up to Narcissa.

The two walked through the Malfoy Manor, Hermione glancing worriedly at the myriad moving portraits. After a while, Narcissa opened a door, on the third floor of the manor.

“This is your room,” she said, entering the dark space. She flicked her wand, causing the chandelier to light the room. She turned around to look at Hermione. “Although you are welcome to stay with my sister. I am sure she would appreciate it.” Hermione’s face turned a deep crimson, and even Narcissa could not keep down the rye chuckle. “While it is true that I bought you many dresses, there are three I believe could work for this evening. The others are far more appropriate for Christmas dinner and the New Year’s Ball.” Looking at Hermione’s wide eyes, she sighed. “Did my sister not tell you this?” Hermione shook her head.

“Thank you,” Hermione said. “I will be talking to her later.” Narcissa smirked again.

“I would imagine you will.” As Hermione’s face turned red once more, she continued. “The dinner is in an hour. I have asked Tottie, one of our house elves, to assist you with makeup, if you desire. I do recommend it, she is quite skilled. As is, I am told, my sister.”

As Narcissa walked out of the room, Hermione could not help but feel a little disquieted as her blush deepened. She was not used to people flirting with her, especially on someone else’s behalf.


	14. Open Books

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brief Black Sisters moment, Hermione learns something new, and Bellatrix is taken aback by her little witch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a long chapter, so heads up. There will be mentions of and brief images regarding past abuse and rape.  
> There will also be passionate kissing and hints at more to come  
> If Narcissa's early dialogue seems stilted, that's because it's supposed to. She's a very formal woman, and holds her etiquette close to her chest until provoked.

Bellatrix was downstairs, sitting in the Malfoy library, which now included much of the old Black library. At the sound of footsteps, she looked up from her book.

“Ah, Cissy,” she said, smiling at her youngest sister. “Are you done teasing her yet?” Her sister laughed and walked over slowly.

“Her? You mean your  _ soulmate?”  _ Seeing Bellatrix’s nerves and glare, she continued. “Relax, I would not reveal that. That is for you to do. Speaking of which, when will you?” Bellatrix sighed, and Narcissa pulled up a chair at the same table.

“I don’t know Cissy,” she said, hands running through her hair. “I don’t want to hide anything from her, but if and when she meets the Dark Lord--” her voice trailed off. Narcissa nodded. She knew exactly what her sister was thinking.

“Come then. There shall be time to think on that later. It is Christmas Eve, let us talk of happier things.” Bellatrix smiled, and the conversation soon changed topics. The two sisters talked of many things and of nearly all things. They talked of Draco’s schooling, of Lucius’ businesses and Ministry matters, of Narcissa’s projects and research into advanced and ancient healing practices. Finally, Narcissa asked of Hermione.

“Our meeting went well,” Bellatrix said with a smirk.

“It went  _ well?” _ her sister exclaimed. “You’ve been writing her for months and all I get is ‘It went  _ WELL?! _ ’” Bellatrix laughed at how easily her sister had been goaded. It was a while before the laughs died down and she could answer her glowering sister.

“It went phenomenally,” she said, unable to keep a smile from her face. “She’s incredibly soft and kind and  _ dear Lord _ is she smart but she’s also really skittish. But honestly Cissy,” she said, her tone turning more somber. “I’m amazed she’s able to be so kind and put together. Her adoptive father--he did things that makes our childhood look like a day at the fair. I swear as soon as He lets me I’m going to kill that man.”

“Who are you killing?” Bellatrix and Narcissa nearly leapt out of their chairs before turning to look at Hermione. Well, Narcissa looked. Bellatrix stared. And how could she not? Hermione was dressed in a dark blue dress and an engraved bronze bracelet, matching her house colors. The dress had a single strap and extended from there, giving it an almost toga-like appearance. It hugged her hips and ended significantly above her knees.

“Bella, dear, you’re staring.” Bellatrix shook her head, and shot a glare at her sister before turning back to her little witch. Standing up, she moved over to Hermione.

“You look truly stunning, little witch,” she said, circling Hermione. Hermione smirked and grabbed her shoulder, stopping her.

“And you didn’t answer my question.” Bellatrix stopped to think.

“What que--oh, yes, right. Dumbledore.” Hermione smiled at her.

“And is this personal or business?” she asked. Bellatrix stepped back, out of Hermione’s embrace.

“Do you not know?” she said in a hushed voice. Hermione looked confused, a first for the young witch.

“Do I not know what?” Bellatrix stepped back towards her, guiding Hermione towards a seat.

“You should be sitting down for this.” She took a deep breath, grateful that her normally verbose sister remained silent. Looking Hermione in the eyes, she continued. “Dumbledore is the reason you were put in the orphanage. He led the attack on your parents, and suggested placing you in an English muggle orphanage.” Hermione’s eyes widened. For a moment it seemed like the world stopped, and everything hung upon her little witch’s next words.

“He  _ what? _ ” Hermione growled, her words biting through the air like poison. Bellatrix remained silent as her little witch’s brain worked, the gears clicking and turning. “Narcissa,” Hermione continued, her voice far colder. “Will the Dark Lord be at any of these gatherings?” Bellatrix nearly fell backwards upon hearing her ask that. Judging by Narcissa’s delayed reactions, she had also been surprised.

“Oh, um, yes,” she stammered, shaking her head. “He will likely make an appearance at the Ball.” Hermione turned back to Bellatrix, her brown eyes ablaze with cold fury.

“I want to speak with him,” she said. She immediately continued, cutting Bellatrix off. Few had dared do that before. “Draco may be smart, but his attempts on Dumbledore’s life are both incometant and obvious. Besides, he hasn’t killed yet. I want to take over.” Bellatrix gulped at her love’s words.

“Are you sure?” she asked. “If you tell him this, there’s no going back.” Hermione simply nodded.

“I am sure. Now please, come with me. It is still twenty minutes until dinner, is it not?” Checking the clock, Narcissa nodded, and Hermione pulled Bellatrix out of the library and up towards her room. Once inside, she stopped, her hand on Bellatrix’s chest.

“Thank you,” she said, nearly out of breath.

“What for?” Bellatrix asked. Hermione smiled up at her.

“For being willing to talk to Him about this.” Bellatrix looked down at her, confused. Hermione sighed, and leaned against the dark witch’s chest. “I know that you don’t want to share me with him.” Bellatrix leaped back, taken by surprise.

“How?” Hermione walked back towards her.

“I don’t know how,” she said, honestly. “Sometimes I--I can feel you, your thoughts and emotions, I suppose. I have for years, but I always blamed it on repressed trauma or period cycles or some such. It’s been so much stronger since we met in May, and even more so when I’m standing with you.” She slowly closed the gap between them, extending a hand to Bellatrix’s chest. “Can you feel it too?” Closing her eyes, Bellatrix focused on the hand upon her, trying to open out her brain. It occured in an instant, Hermione’s emotions flooding into her. It took a while, but soon she was able to filter through them, and they became less overwhelming. She sense nervousness, anxiety, some background sadness that she suspected never went away, and love. Love overpowered the others, and as she focused on it Bellatrix soon found herself becoming overwhelmed. She opened her eyes, and looked at Hermione, hand to her chest and tears forming in her eyes.

“Yes,” Bellatrix said. “I feel it too.” She felt Hermione’s hand move, and then the little witch’s whole body rush forward, burying herself into Bellatrix.

“Thank God,” Hermione said. “I was afraid I was going crazy.” Bellatrix kissed the top of her head.

“Hush now darling, I’m the one who’s supposed to be insane.” Hermione let out a rye laugh, snuggling her head deeper into Bellatrix’s corseted dress.

“What are we?” she asked open endedly. Hermione had likely meant it to be rhetorical, but Bellatrix answered anyway.

“Supposedly, soulmates,” she said simply. Hermione looked up, brow furrowed.

“That’s a thing? Wait, how do you know?” Bellatrix couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled forth from her throat.

“My dear, we live in a world filled with wonders from your childhood stories, and yet  _ soulmates _ is where you draw the line?” She kept laughing, and soon Hermione joined in.

“Well,” she said. “When you put it like that I do sound silly.” Bellatrix kissed the top of her head again.

“Silly? You? My, I am a bad influence!” Hermione stood up on her tiptoes, looking into the dark witch’s eyes.

“A very bad influence,” she said in a breathy whisper. She pressed in, kissing Bellatrix on the lips, breathing in her moan. Bellatrix moved forward, leaning into the kiss, moving her tongue through Hermione’s mouth and catching her as the little witch almost fell from her tiptoes. Bellatrix broke the kiss slowly, her teeth dragging across Hermione’s lower lip. The little witch whimpered, breathing heavily.

“As for how I know,” Bellatrix said. “There is a book I must show you.” Hermione’s eyes, previously dark with lust, suddenly brightened. Bellatrix suppressed a giggle.  _ She truly does love books _ , Bellatrix thought. “So,” she said, forcing an air of calm. “There’s still fifteen minutes until dinner. What should we do?” Hermione gave a knowing smile, closer to a smirk that Bellatrix had thought possible for her little witch. She felt Hermione tugging her hand, leading them into her room.

As they entered her room, Hermione let go of Bellatrix’s hand to closer the door. Bellatrix immediately reacted, turning the little witch around and pressing her into the closed door, hand to Hermione’s chest. Hermione’s eyes widened, then closed as Bellatrix pressed their lips together, tongue pressing for entrance. Hermione welcomed her gladly, running her own hands down Bellatrix’s back, causing the older witch to shiver and lightly moan into the kiss. Hermione deepened the kiss, drawing Bellatrix in as she locked her arms around the dark witch’s neck. Bellatrix moved her hands, sliding down her witch’s back, towards her ass. Suddenly Hermione froze, her enthusiasm gone in a moment. Bellatrix quickly pulled back and took a step away.

“What’s wrong, little witch?” she asked. Hermione’s eyes seemed to be stuck wide, her entire body shaking as tears started falling. She shook her head.

“C-c-ccc-an’t ttt-t-t-talk,” she said, sliding to the floor and hugging her knees close to her chest. “L-l-look---my mind,” she said. Bellatrix was stunned. Had this girl just opened up her mind? Invited the darkest witch ever known into her mind?

“ _ Legemens, _ ” Bellatrix said softly. Moving into Hermione’s mind, she saw a flood of images. Her father throwing her onto a table, shouting as he unbuckled his pants. Her mother, lying in a pool of blood on the floor. The images shifted. Bellatrix walking away, shouting at Hermione that it was all her fault. A redheaded witch and a blonde witch doing the same as Hermione curled into a ball, crying. Bellatrix took a deep breath, pulling out of Hermione’s mind. She stepped over, taking a seat on the floor next to her little witch, still crying on the floor.

“I’ll never leave you,” Bellatrix said, softly. “I could never leave you, never hate you.” Hermione looked up, tears having ruined the mascara Narcissa’s house elf had put on half an hour ago.

“P-promise?” she asked, voice trembling and soft. Bellatrix barely heard the words, but the tone struck into her heart, and tears began to form around the dark witch’s eyes. Taking a breath, she looked Hermione in the eyes.

“I promise,” she said. “I might not always be directly beside you, but I will never leave you. I will always be here for you, love.”  _ Shit _ , she thought.  _ Love? That wasn’t supposed to happen yet! Fuck fuck fuck, what do I-- _ . Again, Bellatrix’s internal rambling was cut off by the brunette witch she was focused on. Hermione leaned over, kissing Bellatrix softly. She then leaned over, resting her head on Bellatrix’s lap.

“Thank you,” she said softly. “I--I think I love you too.” The smile that lit up Bellatrix’s face could have replaced the sun. She leaned over, repeatedly kissing her little witch’s head.

“Beeeella,” Hermione said playfully, turning over to look up at her dark witch. “You have to stop, you’ll ruin my hair.” Bellatrix raised an eyebrow, gesturing towards Hermione’s eyes, which widened with realization. She stood up immediately, looking into a mirror. “Shit! I ruined it when I was crying and now your sister’s going to hate me and think I don’t care about presentation and I wanted to make a good impression and--” Hermione stopped when Bellatrix gently placed a hand on her shoulder.

“Darling, breath. It’s not that big a deal,” she said, pulling out her wand. Pointing it at Hermione’s eyes, she spoke calmly. “ _ Reorganiza _ .” At first there was nothing. Then the makeup began to pull itself from the runs under Hermione’s eyes, climbing back onto her eyelashes, reorganizing itself into the exact same position Tottie had painted them in. Hermione looked up into Bellatrix’s brown eyes, her own twinkling.

“I could kiss you,” she said with a smile.

“You already have,” Bellatrix replied, sharing in Hermione’s smile.

“”Then I’ll do it again.” Hermione pressed into Bellatrix, standing on her tiptoes. Their lips connected as Hermione kissed her again, then broke away. Every kiss was a moment of heaven to Bellatrix, and she was left breathless after each one. She stood there, trying to remember how to breath as she looked at her little witch. Hermione was so gorgeous. Her eyes flickering and sparkling with intelligence and plots, her mouth so soft and inviting, her body enticing, drawing her in with the curves around her breasts and hips. Thick thighs that Bellatrix could imagine over her shoulders as she pressed her mouth against Hermione’s center, hearing the little witch’s moans and pleas. Bellatrix shook her head, trying to refocus herself. Hermione smiled up, a knowing glint in her eyes.

“Thinking of something?” she asked.

“You,” Bellatrix replied breathlessly, still trying to recover from her daydreaming. Hermione’s smile widened and turned into a smirk, her eyes twinkling more than Bellatrix had ever seen.

“Oh I know,” she said, stepping closer to Bellatrix, placing her hand on the older witch’s shoulder, sliding it down her back. “Don’t worry,” she said, leaning in on her tiptoes to whisper in Bellatrix’s ear. “You’ll get to do all that and more.” Bellatrix took a step back, her eyes widening.

“You saw that? How?” Hermione let out a small giggle.

“My dear Bella, you have been in my mind. I hope you do not mind me in yours.” Bellatrix smiled, approaching Hermione and enveloping her in a hug.

“Not at all, I simply did not know you had that skill.” She kissed Hermione on the head, smiling down at her little witch. “Now come, we have a dinner. You do not want to be late to dinner when Narcissa is hosting.” Still smiling, she led Hermione out the door and downstairs.


	15. Family Dinner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas Eve Dinner with the Malfoys

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just finished a draft of Part One (events during the Half-Blood Prince) and I'm really excited, so y'all get an extra chapter this week  
> It is a short one though

“Ah, there you two are,” Narcissa said, a light smile playing on her lips. “I was afraid you had disapparated.” Bellatrix laughed.

“My dear Cissy,” she said, guiding Hermione to the chair beside her. “I am not about to miss my first Christmas dinner in seventeen years. Besides,” she said, smiling directly at Narcissa. “We are on time.” Hermione smiled at the bickering sisters. She loved the dynamic, but was far from comfortable enough to engage in it. She was also focused on obeying all the rules of etiquette. She wanted to make a good impression.

“That is true,” Narcissa conceded. “I trust I have Hermione to thank.” Bellatrix let out a scandalized gasp.

“Cissy! When I have I been late?”

“Christmas dinner when I was nine, the meeting two weeks ago, your own wedding--”

“Alright, alright Cissy, I get the point.” Hermione smiled at them both, before turning towards Bellatrix.

“You were late to your own wedding?” she asked. Bellatrix frowned.

“I’m not sure if it counts as late,” she began. “I was sitting on a fence, deciding whether or not to run away.”

“Why didn’t you?” asked Narcissa, her eyes wide with curiosity. Bellatrix took a deep breath.

“I heard father asking you where I was,” she replied softly. “I remembered what would happen to you two if I left.” Hermione rubbed Bellatrix’s arms softly, trying to impart some comfort into the dark witch. 

“Oh Bella,” Narcissa said, moving towards her sister, enclosing her in a tight hug. “You didn’t need to do that. You were always looking after us.” Bellatrix nodded, trying not to tear up.

Eventually Lucius and Draco came downstairs and dinner began. It was a truly magnificent feast, a goose centerpiece with cranberry sauce and dressings. There were also a host of foods Hermione had never heard of, and she tried all of them. The only one she really liked was the truffle bruschetta. The others revolved mostly on luxury items like caviar, which had Hermione had always found a little gross.

“Thank you,” she said towards the end of the meal. “This was truly a magnificent feast, nearly as marvelous as your house and gardens.” Narcissa beamed at Hermione, and Bellatrix gave her a little smile.  _ Thank God, _ Hermione thought.  _ I didn’t bugger that one up _ .

“I am glad you enjoyed it,” Narcissa replied. “Although from what Bella has told me, you have spent little time in what is sure to be your favorite room.”

“Yes,” Hermione replied wistfully. “Although I would love to explore your library tonight, if that is okay with you?” Narcissa nodded.

“Of course,” she replied. “We keep the candles to the left of the door.”


	16. Joined Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Earning that Explicit rating. This chapter is mostly smut and showing Hermione placing her trust in Bellatrix

Minutes after the dinner was officially over, Bellatrix grabbed Hermione’s hand.

“Still interested?” she asked, eyebrow arched. Hermione only smiled, and then dragged the dark witch towards her room on the third floor. Rushing into the room, she quickly closed the door. Immediately Bellatrix pinned her against it, diving into a kiss as Hermione pressed against her, moaning into the kiss.

“You’re sure?” Bellatrix asked, her hands curling into Hermione’s hair.

“Yes,” Hermione said, breathlessly. “More than I’ve ever been.” Bellatrix nodded, and then yanked Hermione closer, bending in for a kiss, bending the little witch into a dip as the kiss deepened. Her left hand stayed on Hermione’s back, keeping her steady while the other moved slowly down Hermione’s body, trailing down her arms. It moved towards her neck, tracing her vocal chords as Bellatrix moved her tongue into Hermione’s mouth, causing the young witch to moan once again into their kiss. She traced Hermione’s collarbone, moving closer towards her breasts, then moving away as her little witch shivered. Moving her hands lower, Bellatrix pulled Hermione upright, pulling back from their kiss.

“Can I touch you?” she asked, her hands hovering above Hermione’s ass.

“Yes,” Hermione said. “I trust you.” Bellatrix felt her jaw drop.  _ Who the hell trusts me? _ Hermione leaned into her, kissing the dark witch, pressing their bodies together. As the dark witch recovered, Hermione deepened the kiss. Soon she began fumbling with the clasps on Bellatrix’s dress, moving to undo them. It was slow progress and Bellatrix briefly chuckled, but was cut off when one of Hermione’s hands trailed up her pussy, causing her to shiver. Hermione pulled back from the kiss with a smirk, looking up into Bellatrix’s lust-filled eyes. When her hands moved back to Bellatrix’s clasps, the dark witch pushed her hands away, pressing her back towards the bed. Hermione flopped onto it, as Bellatrix stood, looking at her.

“What are you doing?” Hermione asked, breathing heavily. Bellatrix gave a predatory smile, slowly looking up and down Hermione’s body.

“Looking at you,” she said. “I can’t believe how lucky I am.” Her words had an instant effect. Hermione’s cheeks burned, turning a deep red as her smile pressed the boundaries of her face. Moving closer, Bellatrix moved closer, running a hand down Hermione’s chest, trailing between her breasts, down her stomach, stopping just short of her core. Hermione whimpered.

“Please Bella,” she said. Bellatrix smiled, and thought of making her beg.  _ Not today _ , she decided. Today she wanted to give Hermione her love, to make her feel whole, clean, and loved.

Kicking off her shoes, Bellatrix undid the clasps of her dress, letting it fall off her as she moved onto the bed, straddling Hermione. Undoing her bra, she watched Hermione’s wide eyes as she stared into Bellatrix’s breasts. Bellatrix leaned in, kissing her, sliding a hand down Hermione’s back, pushing her up and into the kiss. She grabbed the zipper at Hermione’s back and slowly pulled it down, undoing the little witch’s dress. Pulling away from the kiss with a small bite to Hermione’s lower lip, she stepped off the bed, pulling off Hermione’s dress and marveling at the sight before her. Hermione’s breasts were pert, her nipples pressing against her bra. Her panties were slick with arousal, letting it trickle down her thighs. As Bellatrix looked her over,  her little witch blushed even more and the red extended past her face and neck, down her chest, almost to the covered breasts that Bellatrix stared at a again.

“You’re beautiful,” she whispered. Hermione’s face deepened again in color, and Bellatrix moved back towards the bed. She straddled Hermione once more. Her little witch pushed up, kissing Bellatrix. As they kissed, Bellatrix undid the clasp to Hermione’s bra. As the cups slowly fell, Bellatrix moved one hand from Hermione’s back towards her breasts, gently squeezing them. Breaking their kiss, she let Hermione fall to the bed, and crawled part was down. She pressed kisses to the sides of Hermione’s right breast, gently turning into nibbles as she neared her nipple. Hermione moaned her name, her hips bucking involuntarily. Bellatrix smiled, her mouth enveloping Hermione’s pert nipple, sucking gently and moving her tongue over it, playing with it. Her right hand played with Hermione’s left breast and the little witch bucked again, letting out a high-pitched moan as she shuddered. Bellatrix continued to play with Hermione’s breasts, switching sides until her little witch spoke.

“Please Bella,” she said, her voice heavy from lust, struggling to get her words out as Bellatrix continued to play with her nipples. “I need--fuck--I need you--there.” Those words had more of an effect on Bellatrix than any spell. Without pausing, she slipped down Hermione’s body trailing kisses down the young witch’s stomach, moving her hands around Hermione’s inner thighs. Pulling Hermione along with her, Bellatrix slipped off the bed. Slowly she pulled Hermione’s panties off, tossing them onto the floor. Staring Hermione in the eyes, Bellatrix ran a finger over her pussy, then licked it. Hermione shuddered, and Bellatrix gave her little witch a hungry smirk. Moving her head lower, she ran her tongue across the surface, tracing the openings of Hermione’s folds. The young witch moaned, entwining her fingers into Bellatrix’s hair and pulling her closer. Bella paused, then pushed her head up.

“You have a truly gorgeous body,” she said. Hermione began to reply, but it was cut off by a moan that ran from deep inside. Bellatrix pressed her tongue between Hermione’s folds, running up and down for a while, then moving up, tracing the outline of her clit. Pressing soft kisses to her clit, she moved her fingers towards Hermione, ready to insert them. As they began to enter, Hermione spoke.

“Please, no fingers,” she said, her voice sad. “Any penetration--it--it reminds me--” Her voice trailed off and Bellatrix crawled up her body and onto the bed, gently kissing Hermione on the lips.

“However you wish dear,” she said as Hermione opened her eyes. “Do you still want to do this?” Hermione nodded so hard that it seemed her head might fall off. Bellatrix eased herself back down, trailing her hand down Hermione’s chest, playing with a nipple as she found herself back on the floor, staring into Hermione’s folds. She pressed a soft kiss to them, then licked them slowly, gently easing her tongue into them. Hermione moaned, deep and primal, as Bellatrix’s right hand continued to play with her breast.

“Fuck,” Hermione said. Bellatrix smiled, then redoubled her efforts. Getting the “brightest witch of her age” to resort to swearing was good, but she wanted Hermione chanting her name and forgetting what her own was. She continued to move her tongue through Hermione’s folds, but took her left hand and gently trailed it from Hermione’s right breast down to her clit. She teased her clit as she licked away, gently pinching it and smiling as Hermione’s hips bucked in response.

Soon Hermione was nearing the edge, her sounds limited to low moans of “oh,” and “oh, Bella.” Bellatrix stopped her tongue’s ministrations, pressing a kiss to Hermione’s labia and then moving north. Hermione moan out her complaints, which turned much higher-pitched when Bellatrix latched onto her clit, sucking at the sensitive nub. Hermione’s moans turned to shouts as Bellatrix ran a single finger down the surface of her vagina, trailing slowly across her folds. Running the finger up and down, she felt Hermione come undone.

“That’s it baby,” she said. “Come for me.” Pressing her mouth back to Hermione’s clit she sucked at it again, gently rubbing against it with her teeth.

“Bel--ella!” Hermione shouted as she came, hips bucking against her lover. As the movements ceased, Bellatrix let go of her clit, running her tongue up and down Hermione’s folds, soaking up her juices. Climbing onto the bed, she lay beside Hermione.

“You taste amazing,” she said. Her tired little witch rolled onto her side, staring her in the eyes. Hermione pressed herself up on an elbow, kissing Bellatrix gently, then deepening it. Bellatrix moaned into it, and Hermione smiled.

“I taste great on  _ you _ ,” Hermione said with a smile. Pressing herself up, she smiled again, kissing Bellatrix on the corner of her lips, then on her cheek, then neck, trailing down. Bellatrix moaned as Hermione nibbled on her breasts, running a hand over Bellatrix’s panty-clad mound. Hermione smiled wickedly as Bellatrix’s hips bucked, trailing kisses down her lover. She kissed around Bellatrix’s needy center, kissing and nibbling on her inner thighs. She moved slowly as she did, and then quickly changed course. Her mouth leapt from Bellatrix’s lower inner thigh to her folds, pushing aside her ruined panties. Unlike Bellatrix she did not move slowly, instead pressing her tongue deep into Bellatrix’s folds, one hand on her clit as her hips bucked into Hermione’s eager mouth. Hermione traced her mouth around the whole of Bellatrix’s labia, then found her g-spot, pressing her tongue against it as she rubbed circles into Bellatrix’s clit. With a loud moan, Bellatrix came, hips bucking wildly as she came undone.

Crawling back onto the bed, Hermione kissed up Bellatrix’s stomach, moving up her neck and pressing a chaste kiss onto her lips. Bellatrix growled, pulling Hermione closer, deepening the kiss. It felt like the kiss lasted minutes before they came up for air.

“That was amazing,” Bellatrix said, smiling at her little witch, her lover.

“You--” Hermione said, pausing to take a breath. “You are fucking amazing.” Turning towards Bellatrix, she smirked. “Literally.” With a loud laugh, Bellatrix threw a pillow at Hermione, then turned over and kissed her soundly.

“How am I this lucky?” Bellatrix asked, straddling Hermione, smiling down at her.

“Trust me love,” Hermione replied. “I’m the lucky one here.” Bellatrix rolled her eyes but said nothing as Hermione rolled the both of them on their sides, kissing her again. Soon, the exhaustion set in, and Hermione went to use the bathroom. Bellatrix bid her goodnight, moving towards her own room.

“Are you serious?” Hermione had asked, then paused, nervous energy entering her voice. “I mean, you don’t have to sleep with me--I just figured. . that, well--” Walking back over, Bellatrix’s smile nearly broke the confines of her face. Kissing Hermione, she pulled back, looking into her face.

“I would love to sleep with you,” she said, smiling.


	17. Late Night Talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bella has a realization and Hermione is there for her

Hermione woke around 3:20. Rolling over, she reached out, but found nothing. Looking around, she saw Bellatrix was nowhere in the room. Throwing on a simple robe, Hermione stepped outside her room. She looked around the floor, but found nothing. She found nothing on the second floor, nor the first floor. She was beginning to panic when she looked out the garden-side windows. She tried to run quietly, bursting through the doors and moving towards Bella, who sat on a garden terrace, smoking a cigarette.

“Bella,” she said, nearly throwing herself towards her lover. But Bellatrix was unmoving, staring off into the distance as the cigarette in her left hand burned down towards a nub.

“Bella,” Hermione said, her tone now somber. “What’s wrong?” Bellatrix shook her head.

“Don’t want to burden you,” Bellatrix said softly. Hermione barely kept her eyes from rolling.

“Bella,” she said again, sitting down next to her lover. “Just today I told you about my fucked up childhood, my peodophile-rapist-murderer father, and how I can’t have penetrative sex without a flashback. This isn’t going to be a one-way relationship. If you can’t talk now, that’s fine, but I will always be here for you.” Bella leaned into Hermione, tears falling as she sobbed into Hermione’s robe. Hermione reached out, running her hand down Bella’s hair, rubbing circles into her back with the other.

After a few minutes, Bella’s tears stopped and she sat up, wiping the tears from her cheeks.

“Thanks,” she said, staring out into the garden.

“Of course.” There was a pause. “Are you ready to talk about it.” Bellatrix slowly nodded her head.

“I--it’s hard.”

“That’s okay,” Hermione said, her hand returning to Bella’s back, rubbing supportive circles into her. “Take your time.”

“Thanks,” Bella said softly. She took a breath. “I--I don’t know what to do.” She looked at Hermione, who stayed silent, watching her closely. Taking another deep breath, she continued. “Until last year, I was in Azkaban for seventeen years. Before that I’d followed the Dark Lord for decades. I went to school with him, I was one of his first Death Eaters. He--” she paused to take another deep breath, tears beginning to fall from her eyes. “He saved me from Rodolphus. The one you killed. He--Rod was not a good man. I have no doubt that had the Dark Lord not brought me into his fold and guaranteed my safety, that Rod would have killed me. But--but,” she struggled to continue, choking back a sob, but the tears still flowed. “I can’t follow him anymore. If--if He sees the prophecy, he will kill us both. I can’t live with that. And I--I can’t stop thinking back. If I had come across you years ago, if the Dark Lord had won but you were still placed in an orphanage--I--I,” Bella broke, her tears falling as she pressed her head into her hands, sobs wracking her body. “I would have killed you. Since--since I found out about you, since I’ve been writing you, every muggle, every muggleborn I’ve seen, all the ones He’s had me kill, they all have your face. They come to me in my dreams, they haunt me. They never had before, even in Azkaban, as I was going insane, the ghosts of the past never hurt me. What-what’s happening to me?”

As Bella continued to cry, Hermione scooted closer to her, wrapping her arm around the dark witch and drawing her closer. She pet her hair, waiting until the sobs calmed down to talk.

“You’re becoming a better person,” Hermione said. “You’re growing.” Bellatrix’s eyes widened, and tears continued to fall.

“But what do I do now?” she asked, desperation in her voice. “I can’t keep helping him. I can’t be on his side. But I can’t join the others. I can’t join Dumbledore, not after what he did to you. And even if it wasn’t him, they’d never have me. I’ve committed far, far too many horrible things, even if you remove the ones I didn’t do.”

“Hush now love,” Hermione said, her voice soft as Bella poured out her soul. “We’ll figure something out. I promise.”

“We?” asked Bella.

“Yes, we,” Hermione said. “I’m not going anywhere without you. Period.” Bella sat up, then leaned into Hermione, wrapping her arms around Hermione and pulling her tight.

“I--I love you,” she said.

“I love you too,” Hermione said softly. “Now please, come back to bed. We can figure this out in the morning.” Bella nodded, and followed Hermione back into the mansion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so, about this. I'm trying not to make it an all-at-once kinda change, but Bellatrix, Draco, and Narcissa are all changing their opinions far faster than anyone would. I could say it makes sense with Bella because of the soul bond, but let's be real here. People take too damn long to change their minds, and even longer to change their habits. Even when they know it's wrong. Even when it does or could hurt someone they love. I made them change faster than anyone would because I didn't want to deal with characters I like doing things I don't. I'm a queer trans woman in the south. I already have to deal with people I love hurting the people they love because of habit, pride, or ignorance. So although I usually strive for psychological realism, I couldn't do that here.


	18. Of Hope and House Elves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione and Bella's first Christmas, ft. The Malfoys

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like I said last chapter, the characters I like change their opinions far faster than anyone does in the real world. I am aware of that. It's done partly because I want the characters I like to be decent people (and slave owners never are) and partly because I don't want to try and make hatred and bigotry sound scientific or reasoned--especially since people like me are still being targeted by those attempts.  
> I hope y'all enjoy anyways

Hermione woke up early in to morning as the first rays of light pierced the sky. Looking around, she smiled, seeing the prone form of Bellatrix Black snuggled up next to her, head on her chest. She sat there for a few minutes, content to soak up the sunlight and stare at her love. Eventually she needed to move though. Gently, she shook Bella by the shoulders.

“Bella,” she said softly. “Time to wake up.” Bella grumbled, snuggling up closer.

“What time is it?”

“Almost eight.” Grumbling about early risers, Bella rolled off Hermione and gathered her clothes, discarded from the night before. Approaching Hermione, who was eying the wardrobe Narcissa had assembled, Bella pressed a kiss to the side of her cheek.

“I’m going back to my room to find something to wear,” Bella said. “The morning is fairly relaxed, a sweater-skirt combo should be fine.” Hermione turned to smile at her, grateful for the advice.

When Bella left, Hermione drew a bath and stepped into it, relaxing as the warm water soaked her muscles. The previous day had been a whirlwind of wonder, and years of stress from hidden secrets did not relax in a single day.

Clean, Hermione dried off and emptied the bath. Looking at her closet, she decided on a short black skirt and a green sweater, smiling. She was certain Bella would love her in Slytherin colors. She was happy as she exited the room. And for perhaps the first time in years, the feeling did not feel fleeting.

Descending the stairs, Hermione saw the Malfoys gathered around a large tree, a few presents gathered around it. Lucius and Narcissa sat next to each other on the couch, although there was a distance between them. Draco sat in a chair next to his mother, while Bella sat in a lovechair. Sitting next to Bella in the lovechair, Hermione looked up at her.

“How in the world did you get here first?” Bella just smiled and shrugged. Hermione sighed, and turned towards the others. “I am sorry, I don’t have any gifts to give. I didn’t know I would be here,” she said, turning once more towards Bella.

“No need to worry dear,” Narcissa said, glaring at her sister. “We were unaware as well, until a few hours before your arrival, and as such have no gifts for you either.” Hermione smiled at her, a weight off her shoulders, and sat back to watch the gifts exchange. Each person had a single gift from every other person, and they were far from generic. Draco gave his mother a book on the pre-Columbian medicinal practices of Central America, and received a pamphlet from his father, titled, “Maneuvers and Techniques for the Seeker,” written by Regalius Abbott. Apparently, Abbott had been the first-ever seeker, and this pamphlet contained his advice. It had never been published, and so copies were extremely rare. Lucius had made sure everyone knew that. After they had finished exchanging presents, Narcissa suggested they move to the dining table for breakfast.

“In a minute, Cissy,” Bella had said, smiling. “There’s still one gift left.” Everyone looked at her, extremely puzzled. Smiling, she pulled a small box, wrapped in brown paper from inside her robes, and handed it to Hermione. Looking at Bella confused, Hermione slowly opened it. Inside was a thin silver chain, a small medallion attached. Looking at it, she looked up at Bella.

“It’s the Black family coat of arms,” Bella said. “I know it’s early, but--” she was cut off as Hermione leapt into her, kissing her on the lips. Smiling wide, Hermione pulled back, remembering there were other people there.

“It’s fantastic,” she said. “Can-can you put it on?” Bella nodded, her own smile threatening to push past her cheekbones. Hermione handed her the necklace and turned around. Bella laid it on her and secured the clasp. Turning around, Hermione pressed another kiss to Bella’s lips.

“If you two lovebirds are done,” Narcissa interrupted, a smile undercutting her tone. “Breakfast awaits in the dining room.”

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

Breakfast was a far simpler affair than the previous night’s dinner, but a far cry from simple. Yorkshire puddings, sausage, and fresh-cut tomatoes graced the table. Part way through the meal, long after Hermione had finished, the were interrupted by a faint  _ crack _ . Looking to the side, Hermione saw a small house elf.

“Letter for Miss MacEcrae,” the house elf said in a small voice. Hermione took the letter gently, smiling at the house elf.

“You can call me Hermione,” she said softly. Everyone in the room looked at her in shock. “What is your name?”

“Aeslif,” the elf replied nervously. “But most call me Liffy.”

“Which do you prefer?”

“Oh-um-” the house elf stammered for a while. “Aeslif,” she said softly.

“Then it is very nice to meet you Aeslif,” Hermione said, smiling again. Aeslif hopped from foot to foot, clearly unused to wizards treating her like this.

“A-You as well, Miss Hermione,” Aeslif said. “I must be going now.” With another faint  _ crack _ , she disappeared. Looking up, Hermione saw the extremely confused purebloods.

“What?” she asked, turning towards them.

“We--um--we don’t talk to house elves like that,” Bella finally said.

“I know you don’t,” Hermione replied. “But you should.” There was a sharp intake of breath from the rest of the table. “What? House elves are sentient, they’re intelligent, they have access to magic we can’t even dream of, and they have their own culture, even though we’ve been trying to destroy it for centuries.”

“I--um--” Narcissa said before clearing her voice and stopping.

“Come on Hermione,” Lucius drawled. “They’re just house elves.” Hermione bit her tongue, forcing down the curses that threatened to fly from her mouth.

“They are no more  _ just _ House Elves,” she began, words full of venom. “Than you are  _ just _ a human.” Lucius’ face gained a smug smile as he looked at her.

“Oh, but I am not  _ just _ a human,” he said. “I am a pureblood wizard.” Hermione laughed at that, laughed at his pride and bigotry, laughed until his face turned purple with rage.

“Okay pureblood wizard,” she said, eyes watering from her laughter. “How that attitude play our for you at the Department of Ministries? Or when your Master punished you for your failure? Besides,” she continued, leaning back in her chair. “It is basic decency to treat everyone with respect. Even if you think yourselves better than those like Aeslif, that does not mean you should treat her poorly.” Bella stared at her, seeming either deep in thought or simply stunned, then shrugged and nodded.

“Fair enough, I suppose,” she said. Her words came as a shock to Lucius, causing him to fall back into his chair. He had stood up, thinking to challenge Hermione to a duel. He was now too stunned to even think about it. An awkward silence set in, until Narcissa broke it.

“It is a valid point, I suppose,” she said, her voice not entirely there. She was likely still deep in thought, not noticing as Draco nodded, and moved to stand up. Bella stood up, and Hermione stood as well, moving to follow her. Lucius remained seated, staring at the table, brows furrowed in confusion as he blinked repeatedly. He remained there even as Narcissa left and the house elves began cleaning the table.

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

“Well,” Bella said as she entered the library, Hermione by her side. “That was quite an experience.” Hermione stopped, and Bella did too, turning to look at the young witch.

“It’s true though,” she said. “Simply because they’re smaller and have different magic doesn’t mean they’re lesser than us. If that was true, Professor Flitwick would be in the kitchen with them.” Bellatrix suppressed a laugh, forcing her mind off of the humorous image.

“You’re right,” she said after a lengthy pause. Hermione breathed a deep sigh of relief. “They’re sentient, they’re smart--often times smarter than we are--and they feel. They shouldn’t be slaves.” Hermione hugged Bellatrix tightly.

“I was so afraid you’d disagree,” she said, eyes watering. “I--I needed you to get this. I couldn’t live with someone who thinks slavery is fine.” Bellatrix smiled, looking down at her.

“I think you were right,” she said softly. “Last night. You make me a better person.” Kissing Hermione’s head, Bellatrix led her into the library. “You should read your letter,” she said, glancing back at Hermione. “But there’s something you need to read first.” Muttering to herself, Bellatrix scanned the tall bookshelves, finally pulling one out. “Ah, here it is,” she said, flipping through the pages to select the right one before handing it to Hermione. Hermione scanned it quickly, then stopped, her breath pausing. She read over it again, much more carefully.

“You think this is about you?” she asked. Bellatrix nodded.

“About us. I--I don’t see how it couldn’t be,” she said. “I am the eldest of the the three black sisters, and the oldest black alive. In the records of your nameday ceremony, which I saw when I broke into the Ministry for your blood test, your parents named you Hermione, saying you would unite the Irish and Welsh wizards. Your father called you ‘the last hope of the Celts,’ when he raised you from the river.”

“Woah, okay, take a breath,” Hermione said. “Alright, let’s start from the top. You broke into the Ministry?” Bellatrix nodded, her gaze sheepish.

“Yeah. That’s how I found your bloodwork, the one I sent you. Also found your birth certificate. They-um-they changed that too, if you didn’t know.” Hermione shook her head.

“I didn’t. When’s my birthday?”

“You were born on the 1st of May, 1978.” Hermione’s eyes glared at Bellatrix.

“The first of May.  _ Nineteen Seventy-Eight. Nineteen Seventy-Eight?! _ What the hell!? They erased more than a  _ year _ of my life! They killed my parents, he took me from them, left my father bleeding out on the stairs, dropped me into an orphanage no on gave a damn about, and left me to rot when my father started drinking and beating my mother! He let me get  _ raped _ and did NOTHING when he was arrested and I hid in the Leaky Cauldron every summer, working every break so I wouldn’t have to stay in the orphanage! He-he--” Hermione took a deep breath, her eyes welling with tears. “He destroyed everything.” Bellatrix rushed over to her, wrapping Hermione in a tight hug, letting her tears fall onto her corseted dress.

“I know,” she said, gently rubbing Hermione’s back. “I’m here for you.”

After a long time in her arms, Hermione pulled out of the hug, looking up at her eyes.

“Thank you,” Hermione said softly.

“Of course my dear,” Bellatrix replied, pressing a kiss to her little witch’s forehead. Hands shaking, Hermione pulled the letter out.

“I’m going to read this now,” she said, looking at Bellatrix. “Can-can you stay with me?” Bellatrix smiled at her little witch.

“Of course darling.”


	19. Courtroom Etiquette

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione goes to court!

Hermione walked quickly down the ministry’s halls on the second level, Narcissa hot on her heels. The letter had been quite urgent. Apparently the hearing on Hermione’s birth status and inheritance had been moved to 11:30am on the 25th, without any notifications from the Ministry. Hermione had found out by a letter from her lawyer. Her hands shook slightly as her heels clicked on the tile floors.

Walking into the  courtroom, Hermione gasped. It was a full courtroom, built for murder trials and the like. The full Wizengamot was in attendance. At the prosecutor’s desk sat Dumbledore. It was all she could do to suppress the rage bubbling up inside.

“Are you okay?” Narcissa asked, whispering into Hermione’s ear. Hermione nodded.

“I’ll be fine,” she said, and moved towards the defense desk, where her lawyer sat. As she sat next to him, a gavel banged.

“Court is officially in session,” a woman dressed in black robes said. “The Honorable Amelia Bones presiding, following the recusal of Chief Warlock Albus Dumbledore to serve as prosecution. This hearing is to determine whether the witch currently known as Hermione Granger is indeed Hermione MacEcrae, only child of Seamus MacEcrae and Guinevere MacEcrae neé Cunedda. Prosecution may present first.”

“Your honor,” Mr. Yewley interjected. “I move to dismiss this case and return proceedings to the normal order of filing documents with the lower courts.” The wizards and witches mumbled as Amelia Bones listened.

“Your Honor,” Dumbledore said, stepping forward, his eyes still twinkling, even though they seemed harder than normal. “There is reason to believe the evidence presented by Mr. Yewley and Miss Granger has been forged. As such, I have request that Mr. Yewley’s motion be overruled and this case to proceed.”

“Your Honor, we have seen no evidence of forgery, and there have been no reliable claims on that matter.” The Wizengamot gasped.

“Mr. Yewley,” an older witch said. “Do you not consider accusations by Albus Dumbledore to be credible?”

“Your Honor, Honorable members of the Wizengamot, there are many realms in which Albus Dumbledore’s word is indeed credible. However, he is far from an expert in Irish and Welsh wizarding ancestry, nor in matters of inheritance. Furthermore--” he was cut off as Hermione stood, standing next to him.

“You Honor, Honorable Members of the Wizengamot, may I speak?” Mr. Yewley looked at her, shocked, as did Dumbledore, the Wizengamot, Narcissa, and Amelia Bones. Shaking her head to clear it, Amelia Bone responded, clearing her throat.

“The court recognizes Hermione Granger, subject of this case.”

“Thank you, your honor,” she said. Looking at the court she spoke with a calm that hid her nerves. “I request that Albus Dumbledore be made to repeat the accusation under Veritaserum for his word to be taken as credible.” As she sat back down, there was an uproar in the court.

“Order. Order!” Amelia Bones shouted, finally getting the Wizengamot to calm down. “Professor Dumbledore, do you consent to be questioned under Veritaserum?” Dumbledore nodded, pulling a vial from his robes.

“I do. I have some here,” he said. Amelia Bones shook her head.

“Under court rules, for this to count as a valid Veritaserum questioning, you must drink the court-supplied Veritaserum and cannot consume anything else from now until the end of questioning.” Hermione saw him hesitate, as if about to pull off some switch, and muttered a quick compulsion charm. Dumbledore stood still for a moment, brows furrowed, then nodded, putting away his vial. After a few minutes, a bailiff appeared with a vial, which Dumbledore drank, frowning at the empty vial, and then sitting in the witness’ box.

“Professor Dumbledore,” Mr. Yewley began. “Have you heard accusations of forging regarding to Hermione Granger and her claim to be the child of Seamus and Guinevere MacEcrae.

“Yes.”

“Whom have you heard level these accusations?”

“Various students and professors at Hogwarts.”

“Their names please.”

“M-” Dumbledore began, cutting himself off. “Objection, your honor. The names are irrelevant, and the privacy of the accusers must be protected.”

“Sustained,” ruled Amelia Bones. “Mr. Yewley, continue.”

“What evidence have you seen regarding these claims?”

“Various pieces of paper, and a copy of bloodwork regarding Hermione’s heritage.”

“Do you believe this evidence to be credible?”

“Yes.” Hermione was glowering at her professor when an idea came into her head. Beckoning to her lawyer, she spoke into his year, whispering urgently.

“Ask him if he was there when the MacEcraes died. Ask him about the baby. Ask him if he knows. Can you do that?” Mr. Yewley stepped back, deeply confused.

“Your Honor,” he said. “I move to allow my client to ask some questions in this setting.”

“She may,” Amelia Bones said, cutting off the Wizengamot from muttering and grumbling for another half hour. Hermione stood from her chair while Mr. Yewley stepped back, sitting in his. “The Court recognizes Hermione Granger.”

“Professor Dumbledore,” Hermione said, standing close to the witness box. She could feel her rage piling up, but she didn’t ignore it. She used it, letting it settle in her veins, turning cold as it fueled her, pushing her words sharper and her glare harder. “Where were you on the night of the Second of November, 1979?”

“I was outside the Dublin, in Ireland.”

“And why were you there?”

“I was assisting a group of aurors.”

“Assisting them in what?”

“They were attempting to arrest a pair of dark wizards who had aided Voldemort.”

“What were the names of these people?” Hermione asked, her tone growing sharper.

“Seamus and Guinevere MacEcrae.”

“Describe what happened that night.”

“Object, your honor. This is irrelevant.”

“Overruled,” Amelia Bones said, almost glaring at Dumbledore for such an idiotic objection. Dumbledore took in a deep breath.

“We knocked at the door,” he began. “There was no response, so Alastor blew it open.”

“Are you referring to Alastor Moody?” Hermione interrupted.

“Yes.” Dumbledore paused, hoping Hermione would drop the ball and move on. She didn’t. “Seamus MacEcrae was on the stairs, and yelled at us to leave. We didn’t and he threw a hex at us. Or perhaps one of the younger aurors did so first. I do not remember. We fought until Sturgis Podmore hit him with a  _ sectumsempra _ curse. We then approached the upstairs, checking the first room on the right.”

“Was Seamus MacEcrae still alive when you walked over his body?” Hermione asked sharpley. Her tone bit into the ears of everyone in the court. It turned the air colder, and they could see the anger, the frozen rage, flying off her.

“Yes,” Dumbledore answered.

“What happened next?”

“We found nothing in the first room. In the second room, as soon as we opened the door, Guinevere MacEcrae began to throw curses. We stumbled back, and she managed to kill five aurors before Alastor killed her. Looking through the room, we found a young girl. Sturgis Podmore took her to an orphanage.”

“Who suggested that course of action?” Hermione asked. Her tone was growing sharper, it was cutting through the room.

“I did.”

“What were the words you said when you suggested that?” Dumbledore swallowed. His twinkling eyes were gone, replaced by anger.

“I said ‘Place her in a muggle orphanage. In England.’”

“And how did everyone react to that?”

“They laughed.”

“Did you laugh, professor?”

“Yes.” The Wizengamot gasped, the reputation of Albus Dumbledore, courageous defender of decency, beginning to fall.

“What was the child’s name?”

“We suspected it was Hermione MacEcrae.” Hermione turned to look at Amelia Bones. She, like the entire Wizengamot, stared at her.

“Professor, I would like to discuss the events of the 4th of September, 1995. Did you talk to Madame Pomfrey that day?”

“Yes.”

“What did you talk to her about.”

“A student’s bloodwork.”

“Whose bloodwork was that?”

“Yours, Hermione Granger.” Hermione smiled. She had feared that Dumbledore would somehow resist Veritaserum, but he had not.

“What did that bloodwork say, professor?”

“It said that Dolores Umbridge had forced you to use a blood quill for a punishment.” The court gasped, looking at the newest Wizengamot member. She glared at Hermione. It seemed like she wanted to step out of the courtroom and strangle her.

“What else did it say?”

“That you are the daughter of Seamus and Guinevere MacEcrae.”

“And how did you stop Madame Pomfrey from revealing this information?”

“A memory charm.” More gasps.

“And did you use the same method for the Ministry lab technicians?”

“No. They agreed to keep it a secret.”

“Was that bloodwork correct?”

“As far as I know.”

“And the rumors, regarding forging. Did you start them?”

“Yes.”

“Do you have any legitimate, non-fabricated evidence to back up these rumors?”

“No.” Hermione turned towards the court, her job done.

“No further questions, your honor.” Smiling, she sat back next to her lawyer. Narcissa moved next to her, and whispered in her ear.

“Bella will be  _ very _ proud of you, I suspect,” she said. Hermione suppressed a shiver, knowing exactly what the blonde witch was implying. Looking up, she saw that the Wizengamot were discussing amongst themselves, save for Umbridge. Still dressed in pure, tasteless pink, she sat alone, an outcast. After nearly half an hour, during which Dumbledore glared at Hermione while Mr. Yewley, Narcissa, and Hermione talked about ancient runes (Mr. Yewley had done a brief curse-breaking stint at Gringotts, Narcissa knew them to translate ancient medical texts, and Hermione simply enjoyed them). At last, the Wizengamot sat back in their seats, and Amelia Bones sat back at her desk, reading from a piece of paper.

“This Court dismisses all criminal charges against the witch formerly known as Hermione Granger and Erasmus Yewley. We further find that the witch formerly known as Hermione Granger is indeed the child of Seamus and Guinevere MacEcrae, and thus the heir to the Uí Niell and Cunedda fortunes. Lastly, we approve Hermione’s name change to Hermione MacEcrae.” She looked up, and smiled briefly at Hermione. “Court is adjourned.”

Hermione breathed a huge sigh of relief and brought both Narcissa and Yewley in for a hug, thanking Yelwey effusively. Mr. Yewley laughed.

“I should be thanking you,” he said. “I could not have done that questioning.”

“Only because you didn’t know about that,” Hermione said. “I only learned about it the past two days.” Taking a beat, she continued. “So, what’s next?” Mr. Yewley took a deep breath.

“Well, a lot of paperwork,” he began. “You are the last legitimate heir of two of the most powerful wizarding clans, there’s a lot of properties. We should also consolidate the bank accounts, and transfer them all to your name. It will also be easier to pay the inheritance tax that way, which will be quite substantial, even with our ludicrously low rates.” Hermione nodded, even as Narcissa seemed taken aback. “We’ll also need to discuss the house elves, as I suspect you are unwilling to continue the current situation.” Hermione nodded vigorously. “Oh, and one last thing.”

“Yes?” Hermione asked.

“I need you to sign a non-disclosure agreement.”

“What about?”

“My name. I can’t have people knowing my first name is  _ Erasmus _ . Makes me sound way too pompous.” Hermione laughed, and Yewley soon joined her.

“Then what should I call you?” she asked.

“Yewley, preferably. Maybe Era?” Hermione laughed.

“Right, because  _ Era _ doesn’t sound pretentious at all. How about Er?”

“I am not going to go around being called a mistake constantly.”

“E?” Yewley sighed.

“Fine, I’ll take it.” Hermione smiled and gave him another hug.

“Thanks for everything, E. When should I come by to do the paperwork?”

“Oh, you can do it at home dear,” Narcissa interjected. “We have far too much room for the five of us, I’m certain there’s an unused conference room or two lying around.” Hermione stared at her, wide-eyed.

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.” She turned towards E. Yewley. “Do you where the house is?” Yewley nodded.

“I believe so. I helped your husband with a minor business altercation some years ago.” Narcissa nodded, then looked at Hermione.

“Shall we?” Hermione nodded, and followed the blonde witch out of the Ministry. She barely kept her eyes open for the side-along apparition. The trial had taken much out of her.

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Arriving at the manor, Narcissa and Hermione walked up along the garden walkway, towards the door. They were interrupted when Bella opened the door and ran at them, hugging Hermione close.

“How did it go?” Bella asked. Her voice was tight, her muscles tense.

“It went well,” Hermione mumbled into her chest. Narcissa smiled at the two of them.

“I would say it went better than well,” she replied, looking at Hermione. “She managed to get Dumbledore under Veritaserum.” Bellatrix pushed Hermione off of her, still holding onto her shoulders. She looked her in the eyes.

“You did WHAT?!” she said, smiling widely. Her smile was infectious, and soon Hermione was smiling too, staring up at her dark witch. “That’s amazing! You’re amazing! You’re my amazing, delightful, kind, and brilliant little witch!” Bella pulled Hermione tight, kissing her head with each adjective as she squeezed her tight.

“I need to breathe dear,” Hermione interjected, and Bellatrix loosened her grip, but remained close, staring into her love’s eyes.

“You are amazing,” she said, finally. Smiling, Hermione leaned against her chest, nearly collapsing. Bella always made her forget how tired she was.

“Need a nap,” she said from Bella’s chest. Bella chuckled.

“I would imagine,” she said. “You just defeated the second-most influential British wizard in court. Come on, I’ll show you my room and we can sleep for a while.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The reason Hermione's spell works, in my mind, is that Dumbledore is off-guard, and that she's been connecting with her soul mate.


	20. Well Rested

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bella and Hermione wake up, one of them in more ways than one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiii!! Sorry this is so late, I got caught up in community college bureaucracy. You'll still get an update on Monday, this chapter is short anyways. Enjoy!

Bella’s room was quite something, or so Hermione realized upon waking up. She had actually fallen asleep on the stairs, and Bella had carried her into the room, gently placing her on the bed and then cuddling up behind her. Waking up, it had taken Hermione a while to remember where she was. After that she remembered, she was curious. The room was decorated with Slytherin green and silver. Knives hung from the walls, each beautifully engraved and terrifyingly effective.

Bellatrix groaned as she woke up, stretching until her hands touched Hermione.

“Hi there love,” Hermione said. “Sleep well?” Bellatrix nodded sleepily, moving towards Hermione.

“Very well,” she said, pressing a kiss to Hermione’s temple. “Are you feeling better?” Hermione smiled down at the black-haired witch.

“I’m feeling rested,” Hermione said. “I always feel better when I’m with you.” Bellatrix sat up, pressing another kiss to Hermione’s temple.

“I feel the same, little witch.” Dragging Hermione down towards her, Bellatrix kissed her love on the lips, enjoying the electricity as their bodies reconnected. Even a few hours apart had hurt. She didn’t want to think about Hermione going back to school.

After a few minutes, the two were interrupted by someone opening a door.

“Aunt Bella?” Draco’s voice asked. “Are you two--Oh God!” He turned around, slamming the door shut. “What are you--auch!” Hermione giggled at his reaction, and Bellatrix suppressed her laughter just long enough to reply.

“And that, dear nephew, is why you knock.” Hermione’s giggles turned into a fit, stopping only when Bellatrix kissed her into silence.

“Fine, okay, I get the lesson!” he shouted. “Mum wanted to make sure you were up. Dinner starts in half an hour.”

“Well dear,” Hermione said, slipping from the covers of Bellatrix’s bed. “I suppose I must be going. Things to wear and all that.” Pressing a quick kiss to Bellatrix’s forehead, she left.

Grumbling, Bellatrix went about getting ready. She cast a few spells to tame her hair and clean her face. She changed into a black gown. Christmas dinner was a serious affair, and her sister would not take kindly to her normal corseted dresses making an appearance.

She met Hermione on the stairs, walking into the dining room together. She smiled at Hermione, who smiled back. The dinner went by quickly. The food was good, as it always was. Still, Bellatrix couldn’t help but think of what Hermione had said about the House Elves, only earlier that day. She found she couldn’t eat as much as normal. Looking at her sister, she found Cissy was in a similar state.

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

After dinner, Bellatrix moved to talk to her sister.

“Have a hard time eating?” she asked. Cissy nodded.

“Couldn’t stop thinking,” she said.

“About what Hermione said?” Cissy nodded again. “Then let’s do something about it. Come on,” Bellatrix said, leading her sister towards the kitchens, where the house elves usually were. Together, they entered the cramped quarters and saw more than a dozen house elves, all pressed together.

“Can you gather everyone?” Bellatrix asked, trying to emulate Hermione’s soft tones. “The rest of the house elves, I mean. We want to talk.” The house elf she was talking to swallowed hard, but nodded. Within seconds, more sharp _cracks_ permeated the kitchen, and the full staff of twenty-two was there.

“Hi,” Cissy said. “So, I--we--wanted to change how things are done here.” The house elves looked at each other, clearly nervous with where this was going. “No, no, no,” Cissy said, hastily correcting herself. “I--I want to pay you. To free you.” The house elves looked at her skeptically. They had been offered freedom before, only for it to be yanked away with a laugh. “This is a real offer,” Cissy continued. “I promise. I--well, I don’t know how it took this long. But you’re people. I should have seen that before, and I didn’t. I want to set you all free. And I’ll keep as many of you here as want to. I’ll pay--oh, I don't know--a knut a day. Does that seem fair?” The house elves nodded, still skittish.

“Oh, two more things,” Cissy said. “First, no hurting yourselves for failing a task. Second, use whatever names you please.” The two witches swept out of the room, hoping the elves’ looks of incredulity were a testament to something other than how they had previously run the household.


	21. A Bit of Housekeeping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione decides to explore one of her new properties

Hermione awoke early on the morning of the 26th. Looking at her lover, snuggled next to her in the sheets, she smiled, and pressed a kiss to Bella’s temple. This caused her to stir as well.

“Mmph, what is it?” Bella asked. Looking out the window, she frowned. “Too early.”

“I know, love,” Hermione said with a smile. “I wanted to see you before I left.” Instantly Bella was sitting up, eyes wide.

“You’re leaving?”

“Just for a few hours love,” Hermione said, a hand on Bella’s arm, trying to calm her. “I’m going to see my parent’s house.”

“Do you want me to come with you?” Hermione smiled and pressed another kiss to her dark witch’s face.

“Thank you, but no. I need to do this myself.” Bella nodded, then slumped back into bed.

“In that case, I’m going back to sleep.” Hermione couldn’t help but smile. Everything about the dark witch made her smile, made her happy. Quietly, Hermione slipped from their bed, dressing in a green blouse and a black wool skirt. Walking down the stairs, Hermione saw Narcissa sitting in the living room.

“Hello,” Hermione said, approaching the blonde witch. Narcissa looked up from her book.

“Good morning,” she said with a smile.

“I was wondering if I could use your floo?” Narcissa’s brow furrowed, looking at Hermione quizzically.

“Where are you going?”

“I just wanted to see my parents’ house outside Dublin. I’ll only be a few hours.” Narcissa stood and smiled.

“Ah. In that case, of course you can. Here, we keep the powder in a drawer.” Hermione followed Narcissa over to the fireplace. She pulled out a box of powder from the drawer, handing it to Hermione.

“Thanks.”

“No problem.” Taking a deep breath, Hermione stood in the fireplace, dropped a pinch of Floo Powder, and shouted.

“MacEcrae Dublin Mansion!”

Coughing, Hermione stepped out of the fireplace and into a large room. There was a couch, two loveseats, and seven chairs, all loosely arranged. Looking around, Hermione saw portraits of two men, one on horseback. Probably her ancestors. She shrugged, then noticed something very odd. There was little dust, even though the house had been supposedly abandoned for years.

“Hello?” Hermione said, walking from the drawing room and into the dining room. A massive table was set with silver, place settings for more than a dozen people. “Anyone there?” There was a faint _crack_ behind her, and Hermione turned around. A house elf bowed deeply to her.

“Mistress MacEcrae!” he said. “We have been waiting for you.” Hermione smiled and sat down, looking into his eyes.

“Please,” she said. “Call me Hermione.” The house elf’s eyes widened. “What’s your name?”

“I-um-Eilo,” the house elf stumbled out.

“It’s very nice to meet you Eilo,” Hermione said, placing out her hand. Very nervously, Eilo shook it. “Eilo, how many house elves do I have?”

“Here there are seventeen,” Eilo said. “Between all of your properties, I do not know, probably two thousand or so.”

“Jesus,” Hermione whispered. Taking a deep breath, she set her shoulders. “Eilo, could you get them all in the ballroom?” Eilo nodded, and disappeared with a _crack_. Standing up, Hermione brushed off her skirt, even though the floor was clean. She sighed. Setting her shoulders, she walked towards the ballroom. Entering, she let out a sigh of relief. She’d picked the right room. Then her nerves returned as she stared out at the sea of house elves.

“H-hello,” she said to the silent crowd. “I’m Hermione MacEcrae. Please, call me Hermione.” There was a faint muttering, but Hermione pressed on. “I’d like to free all of you. I’ll keep all of you on!” she said as gasps and panicked mumbles filled the room. “As many of you as want to stay. But I want you to have choice. To have free will. I’ll also pay you. Is that okay?” There was a long pause as all the house elves looked to each other, deeply perplexed.

“How much?” one brave elf asked cautiously.

“Oh!” Hermione said. “I-um-how about two knuts per day?” The house elves nodded. Not that they would do anything else in this scenario. “I’ll send letters to the managers of the properties on how to pay all of you. For those of you at places where you don’t have property managers, Eilo will be in charge of paying you. He will have access to the payroll account I’m setting up at Gringotts.” They all nodded. “Excellent. You are now all officially free elves.” They smiled, still wary, and slowly started disapparating, going back to their places of employment, now free(ish) elves.

Moving into the entrance hall, Hermione’s smile faded. She looked at the stairs, where her father had died. Steeling her nerves, she forced herself to climb them. Walking by, she saw a door, half open, with her name on it. She stared, but couldn’t go in. She bear to see what had been stolen from her. Instead, Hermione walked away, towards her parents’ room. She looked around the room, pocketing a copper ring that called out to her. She next moved to the library, and was overwhelmed. There were hundreds of books, some of them quite rare. After half an hour of walking around and gaping at the library, she took three books off the shelves. Two dealt with soulmates, and one with dark magic.

After reading the first few chapters of the first book on soulmates, Hermione stood up. She stretched, and placed the books in her bag. Moving back to the fireplace, Hermione dropped in a pinch of floo powder.

“Diagon Alley!” she shouted. This time she didn’t cough as she left the fireplace and stepped out into the Leaky Cauldron.

“‘Mione!” Tom shouted out as she appeared, the gangly man rushing to hug her. She hugged him back.

“Hi Tom,” she said with a smile.

“I was worried!” he said. “Are you okay? How’d you escape?” Hermione couldn’t help but giggle at his reactions.

“I’m fine,” she said, smiling. “And I didn’t escape. She’s actually really nice. What?” she said when Tom rolled his eyes.

“Alright, ‘Mione, if you say so.” Hermione rolled her eyes back at him, and walked out of the Cauldron. She walked down Diagon Alley, moving towards Gringotts.

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Three hours later, Hermione left Gringotts with a headache. Dear lord that had been painful. The paperwork involved in setting up a payroll account was problematic enough, but giving a house elf access broke so many rules that she had to threaten to leave Gringotts entirely and then offer to help rewrite the sections in order for them to agree. With a _crack_ she apparated, arriving on the Malfoy walkway. She walked up, admiring the flowers, and into the house. Walking into the living room, she saw Bella staring at the fireplace.

“Looking for me?” she asked, approaching Bella, who growled.

“Yes,” Bella said simply. Moving quickly, she pulled the two of them together and kissed Hermione on the lips. Hermione sighed and fell into the embrace.

“Hermione, have you eaten?” Bella asked.

“Um,”

“Hermione!” Bella exclaimed. “You need to take care of yourself! Come with me, we’re getting you some food.” As she was dragged along by the older witch, Hermione smiled. It was nice to have someone looking out for her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes for the currency:  
> 1 galleon=1 ounce of gold  
> 17 sickles=1 galleon  
> 23 knuts=1 sickles  
> 1 ounce of gold: ~1245 pounds  
> Therefore; 1 knut=2.53 pounds


	22. A Winter's Ball (pt 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Malfoy New Year's ball begins

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay--I recently started school again. Last week was my first week and rather emotionally overwhelming

The next week passed quickly. Lucius was far from happy about the change in his household, but it was too late. And besides, it was Narcissa’s domain. So he shrugged and decided to ignore it. That was his attitude towards most things, it seemed.

Hermione and Bellatrix spent most of their time together, often working on paperwork with E. Yewley. Hermione’s inheritance had been far larger than she had even expected. More than seventy accounts in six separate financial institutions needed to be merged, and she needed to sign papers regarding her ownership and the leasing of several hundred properties across the isles. Making the process even longer was that Hermione insisted on reading each of the papers herself, and enacted changes on many of them. She lowered the lease rates on the farmland, decreased the rent for the “affordable housing” buildings, and increased it on the luxury apartments. She changed the laws around several beachfront properties, making the beaches public. She rejected attempts by fracking and oil companies to drill on eight of her new properties, citing environmental costs. All of which went far over Bellatrix’s head, even as she read muggle books on science and the environment in an attempt to learn of her love’s interests.

By the New Year’s Ball, most of the papers had been signed. What was left were simply those that Hermione had asked be re-written. That night, Hermione left Bellatrix’s room to ready herself. After a few minutes of smiling at her little witch, Bellatrix began preparing herself. She tamed her hair, making the curls fall neatly onto her shoulders. She changed from her normal corseted dress into an embroidered black dress that flowed to the ground. Grabbing some jewelry, she placed a silver necklace with three sapphires onto her neck, and wore a ruby ring as well. Casting some quick spells, some minor makeup was applied as well, clearing up her face and adding a seductive lipstick. She walked downstairs, smiling as she saw Cissy adjusting the table settings and telling the head house elf exactly when and how things should appear.

“Bella, is that makeup?” Cissy asked, walking over to her sister. “You haven’t worn makeup since, well,”

“Since my wedding day,” Bellatrix replied. “I know. It just felt right for tonight.” Cissy smiled at her sister.

“I’m glad it’s going so well,” she said. Bellatrix never heard the rest of what her sister said. Her attention was devoutly focused on Hermione as she descended the stairs. She was wearing a strapless dark green dress, the silver chain bearing the Black family crest bouncing off her chest as she walked. She stared Bellatrix in the eye, smirking at the distracted witch. Her eyes had a hint of eyeshadow, giving a golden sparkle to her face that drew out her eyes. As Hermione drew nearer, Bellatrix shook her head, trying to clear it.

“You look stunning,” she finally said. Hermione, a few feet away, smiled and closed the distance.

“As do you,” Hermione replied. Bellatrix shook her head, looking Hermione up and down. The dress hugged her curves, showing off her breasts as she walked forward. Yet the sexiest part of it was Hermione’s smile, and the silver crest. Her crest.

“Hermione,” Narcissa said, injecting herself into the conversation, which was clearly headed either nowhere or to a bedroom. Both of which were unacceptable for the hosts of a ball. “You look wonderful.”

“Ravishing,” Bellatrix interjected, smiling as Hermione blushed, the color of her face matching Bellatrix’s ruby ring.

The two sat down in the parlor, and Bellatrix soon took Hermione’s hand into her own. She noticed a ring on Hermione’s hand.  _ That should be my ring on her hand _ , Bellatrix thought. She instantly shook her head. It was too soon. Even if she’d been carrying a ring in her pocket since Hermione’s third letter arrived.

“Hermione dear,” she said. “What is that ring?” Hermione smiled, bringing her hand above the table.

“It was my mother’s,” she said. “See that?” Bellatrix looked closer, seeing an intricate weaving of silver, crossing each other increasingly towards the middle, forming an almost square. “It’s a dara knot. A symbol of the druids. It’s meant to remind us of the oak tree. Their strength lies here, roots buried deep underground, even as it reaches towards the heavens. Both permanent in purpose and changing at the edges as the world shifts.” Bellatrix smiled, her eyes watering. She pressed a soft kiss to Hermione’s forehead.

“I love you,” Bellatrix said softly. “I--” Hermione stopped her, pressing a finger to Bellatrix’s mouth.

“I love you too,” she replied, smiling. “And I-I want it too.” Bellatrix’s eyes widened, nearly falling out of her seat.

“You do?” she asked in a whisper.

“I do,” Hermione replied. Bellatrix took a deep breath, and then led Hermione towards the library, silencing Narcissa’s objections with a look. It was not her usual silencing look. It was not a glare, but a tentative smile, the smile of one desperately, hopefully, in love.

Hermione sat in the same chair she sat in when Bellatrix told her about Dumbledore’s involvement in her parent’s death. This, this was far happier news. Neither of them could stop smiling, even as Bellatrix lowered onto one knee.

“Hermione,” she said, breathlessly, staring into the brown eyes she loved so dearly. “We have only known each other for a short time. We have been together for even shorter. Yet I know you to be smart, to be kind, to be funny, to be everything one could ask for in a person. You are, without a doubt, the single most wonderful person I have ever met. Will you marry me?” Hermione’s eyes were welling for tears.

“Yes,” she said, softly. “Yes, a thousand times yes.” They were both smiling impossibly wide when Bellatrix slid the ring onto Hermione’s finger. It was a silver band with a single black diamond. Engraved upon the diamond were the Black coat of arms, something that could only have been done with magic. Standing up, Hermione pulled Bellatrix up with her, kissing her gently on the lips.

“I actually have something for you,” Hermione said, fumbling around her dress. Her hand slid into a fold, revealing a hidden pocket. She pulled out a small black box, and opened it, bending to one knee. “All of what you said about time is true, and you already asked me to marry you. But will you, Bellatrix Black, Queen of my heart, most protective and secretly compassionate person I have ever met, do me the honor of marrying me?” Bellatrix felt a tear trickle down her face, and wiped it away.

“Yes,” she said. Hermione stood up, placing an engraved copper band around Bellatrix’s finger.

“It’s an ancient wedding ring,” she said, smiling up at Bellatrix. “It was first used by Niall Noígíallach, more than sixteen hundred years ago. It was enchanted by one of his descendants to reform whenever the coat of arms changed.” Hermione pointed towards the engraving. A dragon flew above three dots. A ray extended from each dot, and three circles encompassed the whole image. “That’s the dragon of Wales, my mother’s symbol, flying across the Awen, the three rays of light, my father’s symbol.” Bellatrix was so touched by the magic, by the love emanating from Hermione, her  _ fiancée _ , that she couldn’t move.

“Are you alright love?” Hermione asked, looking up with concern.

“More than alright,” Bellatrix replied, smiling at her little witch. “I--I just felt your love,” she said, her smile widening. “It was rather overwhelming.” Hermione stood on her tiptoes, kissing Bellatrix once again.

“I know what you mean,” she said softly. “Now,” she said, her voice returning to its normal volume. “We should get back to the ball. Narcissa will kill us if we aren’t there.” Bellatrix laughed, taking her fiancée’s hand and letting her lead them out of the library.

When they entered the ballroom, Cissy looked at them, smiling widely.

“Merlin!” she said, moving over to them. “You really did it! I didn’t think you would. Although,” she said with a smirk. “It did take you long enough. I noticed the ring was missing nearly two months ago.” Bellatrix blushed deeply, perhaps the only time she rivaled Hermione in that category.

“You’ve been thinking about this for two months?” Hermione asked incredulously. Bellatrix nodded.

“Longer,” she said. “Since we started writing, really.” Hermione smiled, throwing her arms around Bellatrix’s neck and kissing her deeply.

“And I thought I was weird,” Hermione said with a laugh. “I only started thinking about this on the 24th.” Cissy laughed, reminding the two lovebirds there was someone else in the room.

“Oh, I’d say both of you are weird,” she said cheekily. “Although my sister will always be weirder.”

“Cissy!” Bellatrix exclaimed.

“What?” Cissy asked, smiling at her sister. “It is true.” Bellatrix let out a growl, but did not argue the point.

When the first guests arrived, Bellatrix pulled Hermione aside, ushering her upstairs. It is important to make an entrance, after all. Even if it is your party. Or so she told Hermione when questioned. They stayed upstairs for twenty minutes, until the party was sufficiently loud, and therefore well-attended. Descending the stairs, Bellatrix walked a step behind Hermione. This was her entrance into pureblood society, after all, and news of her victory in court had traveled far and wide. The room fell silent as the two women entered. Hermione smiled politely at the crowd, making her way through them. Bella had told her to pick someone to approach when they entered. Preferably someone she knew, others would be introduced to her. So Hermione took the only real option.

“Hello professor,” she said, approaching Snape. His eyes widened in confusion. “Miss Gr--” Hermione cut him off.

“It’s Miss MacEcrae,” she said, smiling. “Although that might change soon.” Snape’s eyes widened again and his brow furrowed as Bellatrix approached, moving an arm around Hermione’s back and holding her close.

“It seems I have missed a great deal,” he said. “I--” he was cut off as the doors opened. The room fell silent as the Dark Lord entered. Everyone bowed as he stepped into the hall, even Hermione.  _ Thank God, _ Bellatrix thought. Even though she knew Hermione was smart, she was terrified about how Hermione might react around the Dark Lord.

“Severus. Bellatrix,” the Dark Lord hissed, gesturing for them to approach. Bellatrix shook her head at Hermione, but she didn’t listen. Grabbing Bellatrix’s arm, she whispered;

“I’m not letting you go near him without me.” Sighing, Bellatrix accepted her love’s statement and made her way to the Dark Lord with her little witch following every step.

“Bellatrix, who is this?” the Dark Lord asked as soon as they were close. The crowd had resumed their conversations.

“Hermione MacEcrae, my Lord,” Bellatrix said. Despite the circumstances, she couldn’t help but smile. “Lost daughter of Seamus and Guinevere MacEcrae, sole heir of the Uí Niell and the Cunedda.” She felt Hermione beginning to blush beside her, but kept her gaze focused on the Dark Lord for any sign of movement or violence. If he threatened Hermione, she would fight. She would lose, but she would still fight. She breathed a silent sigh of relief when his eyes moved to Snape.

“Severus,” he said, voice monotonous in his hiss. “You have met already?”

“Yes my Lord,” Snape said, forcing his voice into its usual slickness. “She is in my class, although I was unaware of these new developments.” The Dark Lord nodded.

“How is she?” The question seemed to take Snape by surprise, but he still answered.

“She is quite good, my Lord.” Hermione’s eyes widened, and Bellatrix suppressed a snicker. Severus put up a good front, but he wasn’t a cruel lout, even if he was a ruthless teacher. “She has mastered wordless magic faster than any of her peers, and always excelled at potions.”

“Excellent,” the Dark Lord said, looking at Hermione. “I am glad to hear that Bellatrix has found a better partner.” When Hermione gasped, he let loose a single chuckle. “Your ring,” he said, pointed towards her hand. She nodded, letting out a shaky breath. Bellatrix opened her mouth to speak, but Hermione cut her off.

“My Lord,” she said, her voice demure. “Might I speak to you in a more private setting? Preferably tonight.” The Dark Lord looked at her, and then nodded.

“Follow me,” he said. “You too Bellatrix, and Severus.” Bellatrix looked at Hermione, her eyes wide with concern.

“What are you doing?” she whispered.

“What I said I would,” Hermione said. “Relax, I know what I’m doing.” That statement did little to ease Bellatrix’s nerves.


	23. A Winter's Ball (pt 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where Hermione knows what she's doing

The four walked into a small room. Snape, last through the door, closed it and warded the room. V--the Dark Lord, Hermione corrected in her mind--was seated in a regal looking armchair. Bella and Snape were still standing, so Hermione took a seat across from him.

“My Lord,” she said. “I want to kill Dumbledore.” Bella let out a sigh, hoping this conversation went well. Snape took a gasp, his eyes wider than he knew were possible. Even the Dark Lord seemed taken aback.

“You do?” he asked.

“I do,” Hermione said, nodding. “I know you want him dead, and Draco’s efforts are hardly going to plan.” The Dark Lord looked up, glaring and Snape and Bella, each of whom shook their heads. “No one told me,” Hermione said, continuing. “He has been far from discrete. He has also never killed someone.”

“I am aware,” the Dark Lord said in a hiss. “It is his test.”

“I suspected,” Hermione said, looking the Dark Lord in his narrow eyes. “But this is _Dumbledore_. Would it not be better to send some assurance that the job will be done?” The Dark Lord looked back at her, weighing whether or not to trust her. Hermione felt him enter her mind, and quickly put up her walls. She did so discreetly, leaving parts of her mind unguarded, so he would think nothing was wrong.

“Others will be there,” he said, apparently having decided she could be trusted. Hermione kept herself from releasing a sigh of relief. “Should Draco fail, they will step in.” Hermione took a deep breath, closing her eyes. She opened them again, looking directly at the Dark Lord.

“Please,” she said quietly. “He killed my parents. He stole my life. Let me kill him, please. It will not be quick.” The Dark Lord smiled at her last words. He wanted Dumbledore to suffer, to suffer as he had.

“Very well,” he said. “Dumbledore is yours. Draco, Severus, and Bella will tell you the details.” He stood up, and Hermione did the same. His mouth moved, almost a smile. “It was certainly worth meeting you, Miss MacEcrae,” he said, before turning and leaving. Once he was gone, Snape threw up a _muffliato_ spell.

“What the hell were you thinking?!” he yelled. Hermione stared him in the eyes as the rant continued. “You decide to actively court the attention of the _single most deadly wizard of all time_ and then ask him permission to kill his rival?! What could you possibly be thinking?! You’re supposed to be the brightest witch of your age, not the biggest fool!” By the end Snape was breathing heavily. Bella moved towards him, but Hermione placed a hand on her arm. _Let me_ , she thought. Bella seemed to get it, and stood back.

“Are you done?” Hermione asked. Snape’s eyes flashed wide, shock registering on his features. Hermione had never spoken back to him, and certainly not in this voice. Her words were sharp, cutting through the air between them. As he stood, mute, she continued. “Yes? Good. As for why, that man killed my parents, ripped me from my childhood, let my adoptive father beat me and kill my mother, let him _rape_ me, ignored me while I spent the holidays working odd jobs to scrape enough together the rent a room at the Leaky Cauldron for the summer rather than return to the damn orphanage. He obfuscated Madame Pomfrey when she found out who I was, intimidate Ministry officials, and then tried to prosecute me for fraud before the full Wizengamot. I _will_ kill him.” Her eyes still glared, boring into Snape’s. Her voice, sharp as a cold winter wind, helped her words cut deep into his soul.

“I--” Snape tried to speak, but couldn’t. Not to her, not after that. He turned to Bellatrix. “Can she do it?” Bellatrix nodded.

“She killed Rodolphus.” Snape’s head jerked back towards Hermione.

“That was you?” She nodded. “How come no one knew?”

“Because she didn’t yell it. She barely said it. I only knew because I was watching.” Snape sighed, deeply, then buried his head in his heads.

“At least this takes care of that bloody vow,” he said. Bellatrix nodded. Snape took a deep breath, ignoring Hermione’s confused glance. “Well, I suppose we should rejoin the party. Miss MacEcrae,” he said, turning towards Hermione. “I will look out for you at school. Many things may be about to change for you.” With that he left. Hermione stood still for a second, then moved towards Bella, burrowing into her chest.

“There there love,” she said, rubbing circles into Hermione’s back. “You did well.” Hermione looked up and kissed Bellatrix on the lips, gently.

“Thank you,” Hermione said softly. “For being there.”

“I’ll always be there for you.” That response prompted another kiss, then another, which Bella deepened, leaning into Hermione. As it broke, Hermione took several deep breaths.

“As wonderful as that is, Snape was right. We should rejoin the ball.” Bella grumbled, but followed Hermione out of the room, taking down Snape’s wards.

Rejoining the ball, they arrived in time for a waltz. Bella gracefully offered Hermione her hand, which she took. They danced across the room, a beautiful symphony of twists, turns, swirling, quick steps, and love. Bella led, moving them gracefully across the room as others danced slowly, and many stopped to watch the two soulmates. Neither noticed the crowd much, other than to avoid bumping into them. As the waltz came to an end, Bella dipped Hermione, then kissed her, claiming her mouth as her own. Smiling, Hermione stood up and pressed a kiss to Bella’s temple, not having to stand on tiptoes thanks to her heels.

“I’m going to get us some food,” Bella said. “Go, dance with the others.” Hermione smiled as the song shifted, turning to upbeat club music. She loved dancing, but rarely got the chance. She would not miss this one. Approaching a cluster of students, she joined in their dancing, losing herself in the rhythms and beats, feet, arms, and body moving of their own volition. Slowly, she noticed that she was being boxed in. Too late, she tried to leave, but she had been pressed into a corner. She was surrounded by a few students, and a handful of adults.

“Back off,” she said, trying to make her way through once more. One of the adults laughed, pushing her into the wall.

“Now why would I do that missy?” he said. The others laughed. “You know, it’s rude to sleep with a widow.” Hermione smiled, portraying a calm she did not feel.

“Hello Rabastan,” she said. “Good to know your stupidity is a family affair.” Rabastan grew red as she continued, hand slipping into her secret pocket. “He was an even bigger idiot. Grabbed a child in a headlock and turned his back on me. Never got to make that mistake again.” She laughed, a cackle that seemingly came from nowhere. Later she would realize it had come from Bella. The faces of some students grew pale, and they began edging away.

“I’ll kill you, you little bitch,” Rabastan growled, moving to draw his wand.

“ _Stupify_ ,” Hermione said, her wand already out. “Oh Rab, what a fool. Are any of you smarter?” she asked, turning towards the others. One moved towards his wand, but went down with a flick of Hermione’s wand. Another charged at her. Moving to the side, Hermione ducked under his arms and tripped him, grabbing his arm and pulling it as he fell, causing his shoulder to dislocate. He let out a scream of pain as the others closed in. Hermione smiled, wand still in her hand. Three charged at her, two more drew wands. She laughed and moved her wand. The three students who had charged fell, arms and legs bound in rope. The two with wands, one adult and one student, threw curses at her. Hermione smiled and silently countered both of them. As they stood, jaws dropping towards the floor, she heard Bella’s footsteps approaching. Hermione sighed, and quickly stunned the pair. Bella came into her vision, wand drawn, rage emanating from her body.

“Who is it? I’ll--” she was cut off as Hermione placed a hand on her forearm.

“Relax love,” she said gently. “I took care of them.” Bella looked down at the bodies.

“So you did.” She turned one of the bodies over. “Ah, Rabastan. That makes sense.” Hermione nodded. She was about to ask what they should do with them when Narcissa rushed into the picture.

“What the hell happened?” she asked, blue eyes blazing with fury.

“Oh,” Hermione said. “Little assassination attempt, I think. Nothing to worry about.”

“Nothing to worry about? There was an assassination attempt on your life, the guests have fled the room, many have fled the manor, and you say there’s _nothing to worry about?!_ ”

“Well,” Hermione said, avoiding Narcissa’s eyes. Taking a deep breath, she finally met them. “We’re all still alive.” Narcissa let out a sigh, and pulled both Hermione and Bella in for a hug.

“Thank Merlin for that. Now,” Narcissa said, breaking off the hug. “Ask the Dark Lord what to do with them, and move them out of here.” Hermione and Bella nodded.

“I’ll go ask him,” Bella said as Narcissa walked away. Hermione nodded, and opened a door. She began moving the bodies to a secluded part of the garden, binding all of them in ropes.


	24. A Winter's Ball (pt 3)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A conclusion to Rabastan's ill-fated attempt at rebellion

Bellatrix sighed as she approached the Dark Lord, who was in the library. Raising her shields, she approached him.

“My Lord,” she said.

“Yes Bellatrix?” he asked, looking up from a book.

“There was a. . . scuffle at the ball. Rabastan and others attacked Hermione MacEcrae.” The Dark Lord sighed and closed the book.

“And your sister has asked me to deal with them.”

“Well, you, me, and Hermione, my Lord.”

“It would be rude to refuse our hostess,” he said, standing up. “Are they still in the ballroom?”

“No, Hermione was moving them into the garden.”

“Of course,” the Dark Lord muttered. His red eyes seemed to gleam with irritation. Bellatrix swallowed, and was glad neither she nor Hermione was the target of his wrath today. The two walked quickly through the ballroom, and Bellatrix moved through the garden, leading him to the secluded area Hermione had found. The eight men were all tied up. Rabastan was gagged. They were also tied to the bamboo shoots that enclosed this area, giving it its secluded nature.

“My Lord,” Hermione said, with a slight curtsey. Bellatrix looked at the bindings, and raised her eyebrow. Hermione sighed, then answered. “They kept trying to move. And Rabastan kept yelling and ‘homewreckers,’ ‘mudcoats,’ and some other nonsense.”

“Well, that all tracks,” Bellatrix said. She then looked to the Dark Lord. “My Lord, what should we do?” The Dark Lord ignored her, instead deciding to gaze at the room, fixing every prisoner with his narrow, red eyes. Turning back towards Rabastan Lestrange, he finally spoke.

“You subdued them yourself?” he asked in a quiet voice. It was soft in a way that sent waves of fear down Bellatrix’s spine.

“Yes, my Lord,” Hermione said. He turned towards her, a faint smile on his lips that never reached his eyes.

“Impressive. Especially considering how fast Bellatrix must have moved to aid you.” Hermione simply nodded. “Ah, Rabastan,” the Dark Lord said, turning once more to the prisoners. “You should have known better. I have no place for fools among my numbers.” There was brief pause as the Dark Lord drew his wand. “ _ Avada Kedavra. _ ” A green light flashed from it, striking Rabastan just above the heart. He had just enough time to register surprise before he died.

“As for the rest of you,” the Dark Lord said, looking around. “You may leave with a warning. Do not repeat this mistake.” As the prisoners sighed with relief, the Dark Lord smiled, a real smile. A cruel smile. “ _ Crucio!”  _ he yelled. The boys and men screamed, their bodies twitching with the searing pain the Dark Lord inflicted. When at last the spell subsided, he waved his wand, and their bonds vanished. They fell to the floor, breathing deeply.

“I must be going know,” the Dark Lord said, turning towards Hermione and Bellatrix. “Give your sister my regards.” Bellatrix nodded, and they walked back into the house as the Dark Lord disapparated.


	25. Plans and Planners

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bella and Hermione realize they made a mistake

Hermione woke with a start the next morning. Shaking her head, she wondered what had happened. Bella was still curled up next to her. Maybe it was a nightmare? The answer came quickly with a series of sharp knocks on the door.

“Hurry up,” Narcissa said from the other side. “We needed to start half an hour ago.” Hermione shook a grumbling Bellatrix awake.

“What is it?” Bella asked, trying to rub sleep from her eyes.

“Your sister has gone insane,” Hermione said. Bella rolled over again, back into bed.

“That’s nothing new. Wake me when something interesting happens.”

“I am not insane!” Narcissa said through the door. “Casually announcing an engagement by wearing rings is insane! Openly wearing your engagement rings in public and pushing up the timetable is insane!” Bella grumbled again, but sat up.

“She actually does have a point, my love,” she said. “Weddings are a mess to plan.”

“Oh, alright then,” Hermione mumbled, rolling out of bed. “We should probably be dressed for this.” Bella nodded, and Hermione opened the closet. Pulling out an embroidered black dress with a corset, she tossed it at Bella.

“Thanks love. How did you know?” Bella asked mockingly.

“It’s all you wear,” Hermione said with a laugh. Moving into her space in the closet, she picked out a green blouse and a black wool skirt. Throwing them on, she cast some cleaning spells and a few more to get her hair in order. Looking at Bella, who was sitting on the bed, she groaned.

“How do you always look so good?” Hermione asked. “It’s not fair to the rest of us.” Bella stood up, closing the gap and looking into Hermione’s eyes.

“I could ask you the same question,” she said. She leaned in, eyes closing as their lips met. The kiss was gently, but Hermione gave a needy whimper when she pulled away. Bella returned in full force, dipping Hermione with one hand while grabbing at her hair with the other as she ran her tongue along Hermione’s teeth. Hermione moaned into her mouth, and Bella’s hand began to move, lowering itself towards her breasts.

“Come on!” Narcissa shouted, and the moment was gone. The two lovers stood up and cleared their throats.

“Right then,” Hermione said with a grumble. Bella shot her a smile and a wink.

“There’s always after dinner,” she said.

The two witches finally opened the door, and were promptly dragged downstairs by Narcissa. Bringing them to a conference table where they had met with E, she sat them down. In front of them were several scrolls, massive lines of parchment, and a waste-bin filled with scraps.

“Merlin, Cissy, what is this?” Bella asked, staring at the table.

“This,” Narcissa said without looking up. “Is the research needed for the guest list.” Bellatrix sighed and flopped into her seat.

“Of course. This again.” Hermione looked up at her, confused.

“Who gets invited is always a complicated matter,” Bella said, sitting up straight.  _ Only straight thing about her _ , Hermione thought before refocusing. “Even more so in a war. The invitation list for my other wedding was a nightmare. Of course, it was organized by my parents, and so matched them perfectly.” Narcissa laughed as Hermione looked at them, concern making creases in her face. “Oh honey,” Bella said, reaching out to Hermione. “My parents weren’t as bad as your adoptive father. They were, however,” she paused, trying to think of the right word.

“Abusive?” suggested Narcissa, marking a sheet of parchment with her quill.

“And insane,” Bella said, looking at Hermione. “If you truly want to know, I can tell you sometime.”

“I want to know everything about you,” Hermione said, her voice soft. “I want to know your past, your present, your hopes for the future. I want to know every angle and side of you there is. I want to know all of you, not just the parts socially acceptable.” Bella wiped back tears and hugged Hermione, bringing her in close. She kissed the top of Hermione’s head and rubbed circles into her back.

“My-my past is complicated,” Bella said, holding back tears. “I’m not ready to talk about all of it yet. But as for my future, all I hope for and dream of is the two of us together.” Hermione’s smile nearly burst her face as she looked up into Bella’s eyes. She pressed a kiss to Bella’s lips, and smiled. Once again, Narcissa burst their bubble.

“As adorable as that was, I do need the two of you here,” she said, still looking at the same sheet of parchment. At least, Hermione thought it was the same one. She wasn’t sure. “I need you to create a list of people you will and won’t invite, regardless of social cues and any advice I may give.” Hermione and Bella smiled at her tone. They both knew she loved them, even when they were frustrating.

The list took quite a while. Bella mostly added to the “under no circumstances” category. In fairness, so did Hermione. She only insisted on having Ginny, Luna, and Luna’s father there.

“Are you sure?” Bella had asked. “They might not approve of this.” Hermione shook her head and laughed.

“My dear,” she said, looking into Bella’s eyes. “They have been with me this whole time. They are my closest, and perhaps my only friends. They knew of my heritage the moment I opened your letter. The lawyer I used? The one even you acknowledged was competent?” Bella nodded.

“Begrudgingly,” she added. Hermione smiled at her.

“Yes, that one. Luna suggested him. Her father set up the first meeting. Ginny is her girlfriend. And my friend. So yes, I want them there.” Bella gave an exaggerated sigh, but put them on the list.

“Let’s just hope everyone else behaves,” she said. Hermione’s eyes darkened.

“They know what happens if they don’t,” she said. Bella looked up, and smiled at her fiancée.

“Yes,” Bella said. “That they do.”

The next few hours went by in a blur. Narcissa kept listing off names, many of which Bella objected to. At one point Hermione wondered if they were planning a wedding or a circus, so many people were involved.

“Now then,” Narcissa said, hours later. “Who do you want to officiate?” Bella looked at Hermione shocked. She hadn’t given it any thought. Fortunately, Hermione had.

“Oh, um, I have someone in mind,” Hermione said. “The druid who created our prophecy, he’s actually a ghost. I was hoping he’d officiate. He knows a few ancient rights to bind our souls together, even more than they already are.” Bella smiled up at her. Hermione blushed under her gaze.

“That sounds perfect Hermione,” Narcissa said. “How should I contact him?”

“Oh, there’s no need!” Hermione said excitedly. “I already talked to him, he’s willing. He’s been moving around my mother’s old house, I ran into him when I went there a few days ago. I just need to tell him he’s welcome.” Narcissa breathed a sigh of relief.

“Excellent. Final thing for today,” she said, and Hermione and Bella sat upright, excited to leave the never-ending nightmare of planning. “What’s the date?” This time, Hermione froze, having no idea when would be a good time.

“March 29th,” Bella said confidently. Hermione and Narcissa looked at her, confused. “It’s a Saturday,” she explained. “Hermione will be here for the holidays, and it’s one of the few days during break without a religious holiday.” Hermione sat back, staring at Bella.

“You know,” she said. “It is  _ hot _ when you’re so organized.” Bella began a laugh, but stopped when she saw Hermione looking at her, lust in her eyes.

“Is that so?” Bella asked teasingly, her voice low and seductive. Her hand moved towards Hermione, drawing her closer.

“Mmmm,” Hermione said as she was slid.

“Alright, you two. Out. Go to your room and be disgustingly sweet there,” Narcissa said, looking up from the parchment. “Wake up early tomorrow,” she said, calling after them. “We’re finalizing the guest list before Hermione leaves!”

Hermione and Bella rushed upstairs, quickly entering Bella’s room and closing the door. Bella pressed her against the door, pouncing on her and kissing deeply, moans of lust echoing in their mouths. Hermione’s hands, now more experienced with Bella’s clothing, flew across the clasps that kept the corset in place, undoing them all then pulling down the zipper that kept Bella’s skirt up. As Bella stood up, the dress fell off her, revealing black lace panties and bra. Hermione growled hungrily at the sight. She quickly slipped off her own clothes, leaving her shirt, skirt, and bra on the floor. She pushed Bella onto the bed, straddling her and kissing her deeply, hands running across the length of her body. Tracing over her panties, Bella moaned into Hermione’s mouth. Smiling, Hermione slithered down her lover’s body, kissing down her neck, leaving bite marks and dark hickies. She nibbled at Bella’s breasts, causing the older witch to moan and buck her hips when Hermione bit down on Bella’s nipple before sucking it between her teeth.

“Merlin, Hermione,” Bella managed to say. “Your mouth…” Hermione smiled, biting down on Bella’s other nipple. She loved the sounds Bella made under her ministrations. Still smiling, she left a trail of kisses down Bella’s chest and stomach, pausing at her panties. She teased Bella, kissing her panties and tracing patterns on her inner thighs. She slowly slipped Bella’s panties off and gently ran a finger over the surface of her folds. Bella growled at the slow pace.

“Come up here little witch,” she said, pulling Hermione by the arms. As soon as their faces were level, Bella flipped them, kissing Hermione fiercely. “Inside me,” she moaned between kisses. “Please. I need you.” Hermione smiled, kissing Bella again, then biting down on her neck as she slid two fingers into Bella’s folds. She was sopping wet, and moaned deeply. Hermione added a third finger, running her tongue over the bite mark, kissing up and down Bella’s neck. Bella moaned again, and began riding Hermione’s hand, fucking herself on it as she moaned Hermione’s name. Hermione’s other hand snaked up and grabbed a breast, tweaking the nipple. As Bella’s moans grew higher-pitched, Hermione could tell she was close. Sitting up slightly, she yanked Bella’s hair, forcing her down into a kiss. At the same time, she extended her thumb, pressing it into Bella’s clit as she continued to fuck herself on Hermione’s hand. Bella came, moaning her pleasure into Hermione’s mouth. As the kiss broke, she rode out her orgasm, still moaning her lover’s name. Bella flopped onto the bed, the rolled onto her side, looking at her lover.

“Anything I can do for you?” she asked, feigning innocence. Hermione smiled, predatory, something Bella hadn’t see her do before. Slowly, Hermione took Bella’s hand and slipped it under her panties, placing her thumb over her clit. Bella began to rub it, moving it in circles, her mouth descending on Hermione’s breasts, sucking and nibbling at them, leaving bite marks and hickies across her body. As Hermione approached the edge, Bella slid up her body, thumb still on her clit. Bella bit down on Hermione’s neck as the young witch cried out in ecstacy. She bit and sucked at it, leaving dozens of marks, stopping only as Hermione came, crying her name, and slowly rode out her orgasm against Bella’s thumb. Taking Bella’s hand out of her panites, Hermione smiled, then sucked each of her fingers, taking each of them out with a pop. She then flopped onto the bed, exhausted. The two lay there for a long while, simply basking in each other’s presence.

“I’m not ready for you to go,” Bella said, bringing Hermione closer.

“I’m not ready to leave,” Hermione said, snuggling into Bella’s chest. She kissed Bella’s skin gently, tracing patterns across her lover’s stomach.  “I’ll be back soon,” she said, craning her neck to look Bella in the eyes. Bella nodded, even as her eyes watered.

“Not soon enough,” she said. Hermione crawled up her body, kissing her gently on the mouth.

“It never will be love,” Hermione said, then paused. “I will write everyday.”

“As will I. I promise.”

“I promise too.” Hermione sighed, leaning into Bella. “Besides,” she said, holding up her hand for both of them to see. “I am going back claimed.” Bella smiled at that, holding Hermione tighter.

“Do be careful love,” she said. “There are many who will want to hurt you solely for wearing my ring.”

“I know. I will be careful,” she promised. “I have two kind and powerful friends, and I am no weakling.” Bella giggled, pulling her little witch closer and kissing her again.

“That, my darling, may be the understatement of the century.” Hermione giggled back, kissing her lover and cuddling deep into her. The two fell asleep holding each other, skin touching.


	26. Revelations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione returns to Hogwarts. Lots of cute fluff, featuring Ginny and Luna.

“UP!” That was the sound Hermione awoke to, on the 2nd of January, 1997. The voice of her future sister-in-law, yelling at her and her fiancée at 6:30 in the morning. Grumbling, the two slowly rose from their bed, throwing on clothes. Hermione changed her style this time, opting not to wear green. She didn’t want to pick a fight before she even stepped onto the train. Instead she wore a dark blue shirt with a skirt that was stripped with light and dark blue, as well as white.

Still half asleep, Bellatrix stumbled her way down the stairs after Hermione. As they reached the conference room with all of Cissy’s papers, she snapped her fingers.

“Coffee please,” she said. A second later there was a house elf giving her a mug of the brown liquid. Bellatrix took a deep sip, then blinked her eyes. “Much better. Thank you, Silifa.” The house elf smiled, and disappeared with a faint  _ crack _ . Hermione raised her eyebrows, looking at Bellatrix.

“Oh yeah,” she said. “Forgot to tell you. Cissy and I changed things a little. She came up with most of the ideas. Anyways, they’re free and paid and we call them their actual names.” Bellatrix took another deep sip of her coffee.  _ Thank Morgana for caffeine, _ she thought. Looking at Hermione, she found her little witch to be smiling enormously.

“A little change?” Hermione asked, smile widening. “This is huge! It’s amazing! One of the most famous and wealthy households, paying their house elves! It’s better than anything I could have hoped for!” Bellatrix smiled, looking at Hermione as she was filled with happiness and excitement. Bellatrix felt some of her happiness, but it was overwhelmed by the love she felt for her little witch.

“You know,” Bellatrix said after a long pause. “It was really you. Somewhat, at least. Once you pointed out they well, existed, it was kind of obvious. That and the demonstration that they’re smarter than Lucius.” Smiling, Hermione hugged Bellatrix tight, kissing her cheeks and then her lips. After a few minutes, Narcissa came in with breakfast. Hermione profusely thanked her, and then they began business. Besides one sticking point (Yaxley, who Bellatrix detested and Hermione found creepy, was too important to not invite) the invitation discussions went smoothly. That did not mean they went speedily. When they were finished, it was 10:20. The train left at eleven.

“Hermione dear, are you packed?” Narcissa said with an edge of worry.

“Yes, of course. Why do you--OH MY GOD the time!” Hermione sprinted up the stairs, grabbing the bag she came with and the one full of clothes that Narcissa had bought for her. Running downstairs, she nearly bowled over Draco, who was headed upstairs to grab his things. She began to say goodbye to Bella immediately, which was a good thing. Their goodbyes were tearful and full of kisses, hugs, and promises of contact. As the group (minus Bella, a fugitive) moved down the walkway, Narcissa spoke up.

“Hermione dear, you should probably wear a scarf.” Hermione looked confused, then touched her neck. At the strange, almost painful feeling she remembered that Bella had covered her in bites and hickeys the previous night. Blushing a deep crimson, she pulled out a Ravenclaw scarf and wrapped it around her neck. “Much better,” Narcissa said. With a nod from Narcissa, they all apparated.

They arrived on the magical side of Platform 9 ¾ at 10:48. Bidding Narcissa and Lucius goodbye (the latter largely ignoring her) she stepped onto the train in search of her friends. She had talked to Draco the day before, and they decided not to be seen together too often, at least for now, while things played out.

Hermione quickly found Luna and Ginny, and smiled at the two. Ginny was lying down on the seat, her head in Luna’s lap. Luna was gently playing with Ginny’s hair while reading  _ The Quibbler _ . They always boarded the train early. Molly Weasley was many things, but tolerant was not one of them. Ginny still hadn’t come out to her. Her father and all her brothers except Percy knew. Ginny hadn’t told Ron and he hadn’t asked, but she wasn’t shy at school. Hermione smiled at the girlfriends as she entered the compartment, placing her bags on the metal bar.

“Hello Hermione,” Luna said, voice pleasant as ever. “You’re glowing.” Hermione looked at herself but found nothing. Looking back to Luna, she found a smile. “I’m glad you two got together. I was afraid you’d miss the signs, even with the letters.” Hermione’s eyes widened.

“Wait, how do you know?” she asked, staring at the blonde. Luna shrugged.

“Luna knows a lot of things,” Ginny said from her lap. “Easily the wisest of any of us.” The blonde blushed at her girlfriend’s comments, slapping her arm playfully.

“Ginny,” she said with a whining tone and a smile. “Don’t exaggerate.” The redhead just smiled and sat up, kissing her girlfriend. “Oh, Hermione,” Luna said, turning back towards the brunette. “Congratulations on the case. There’s an article on it in this month’s edition of  _ The Quibbler _ . I hope you don’t mind, your lawyer talked to us. Daddy would have talked to you, but we didn’t want to interrupt.” Hermione smiled at the blonde, while Ginny just looked between them, confused.

“Court case? You didn’t want to interrupt what? Look, I sorry, but one of you needs to explain this to me, cause unlike ‘Mione I didn’t live it, and unlike you, sweetheart, I’m not connected with the ambient forces of nature.” Luna smiled at Ginny, seeming to be completely at peace. Even more so that usual. Hermione wondered whether what Ginny said was more than a joke. If so, it would explain a lot.

“Hermione, it would be best if you explain,” Luna said, smiling gently at her. Hermione took a deep breath.

“Okay, first things first. Remember how I got the bloodwork about my parents super mysteriously? And I said I didn’t know who sent it?” Ginny nodded. “Right, that was a lie.”

“The fuck, ‘Mione?” Ginny exclaimed. “Who was it?”

“Well, um, Bellatrix. Black, that is.”

“What?!” Ginny’s shout attracted the attention of some second-years wandering by. Hermione smiled and gestured for them to move, which they soon did. “The actual fuck--”

“Wait. Please Ginny, just wait until the end,” Hermione said with a plea in her voice. This is what she’d been afraid of. Losing her friends. She shook her head, and (after casting a quick silencing ward) plowed ahead.

“Anyways. The reason I didn’t come with you to the Burrow was so that I could meet with my lawyer. The court date had been set for the 27th. On the 24th, Bella found me and invited me to stay with her at the Malfoy Manor. Very persuasively.”

“With her wand? Did she threaten you?” Ginny asked.

“No,” Hermione responded, a blush rising across her cheeks.

“Merlin,” Ginny said, slumping in her seat.

“Just listen. Please?” Ginny nodded, and Hermione continued. “I found out a lot while I was there. I found out Dumbledore was the one who led the attack on my parents, who took me and placed me into the orphanage. As for the court case, he tried to outsmart me.” Hermione was grinning devilishly now. Ginny was drawn in. “He claimed I’d forged evidence, and forced a trial before the full Wizengamot. I managed to force him into a Veritaserum questioning.” She laughed, and Ginny looked a Luna, a bit scared. “He tried to defeat me with word-play. Didn’t work too well. He admitted to leading the attack, to leaving my father bleeding on the ground, to stealing me, to place me in the orphanage, to lying about the forgery, to obfuscating Madame Pomfrey, and to coercing Ministry officials into not telling me about the bloodwork.” Ginny’s jaw dropped.

“He--he said that?” Hermione nodded.

“After taking Veritaserum. It’s all true. It’ll be in the court records, if he hasn’t erased them.”

“Okay,” Ginny said, taking a deep breath. Her world was spinning. “That still doesn’t explain anything about you and Bellatrix Lestrange.”

“Black,” Hermione quickly corrected, heat creeping into her voice. “Her husband died.” Ginny nodded.

“Okay, Black. I remember reading about his death. Didn’t they say it happened during the fight at the Ministry last year? Some sort of accident?” Hermione dropped her gaze, staring at the floor. “Hermione?” Ginny asked.

“You didn’t tell her?” Hermione said softly, looking at Luna. The blonde witch shook her head.

“What is it?” Ginny asked. Hermione took a deep breath.

“He-he didn’t die in crossfire. He was attacking Luna. He was about to grab her.” Hermione closed her eyes. “I killed him.” She opened her eyes, and Ginny looked at her in silence.

“That’s it?” she finally said. “You killed a death eater, who was trying to kill my girlfriend. Thank you. That’s nothing to be ashamed of.” Hermione smiled at her redhead friend. It was nice to have things simplified sometimes.

“Thanks,” she said.

“Alright, now that that’s over, what’s this about you and Bellatrix?” Hermione took another deep breath.

“Right. During the Ministry battle, I felt drawn towards her in some weird way. She felt similarly, apparently. Using my ability to kill her husband as an excuse, she looked into my past. That’s how she ended up breaking into the Ministry and sending me the blood test.” Ginny nodded, staying silent. Taking another breath, Hermione continued. “Like I said, she brought me to Malfoy Manor on the 24th. The next day, I found out we were soulmates. Seriously,” she said, looking at Ginny’s skeptical glance. “There’s a prophecy. Specifically calls us ‘mated souls.’”

“Alright, fine!” Ginny said, throwing her hands up. “I give up, you’re destined for each other. Fine. Just tell me,” she said, leaning in, looking Hermione in the eyes. “Is she kind? Does she take care of you?”

“Yes,” Hermione said without hesitation. “She--I had two flashbacks. Both while we were--doing things,” she said, blushing a deep red. “She stopped, immediately. Took care of me, held me. When she approached me in the Leaky Cauldron, she placed a hand on my shoulder and I freaked out, broke her elbow. She didn’t care. I healed it, and all she wanted to talk about was why I reacted like that.”

“Good,” Ginny said, sitting back onto the seat. “You deserve someone like that.” Hermione smiled at that.

“As do you,” she said, gesturing to Luna and Ginny, holding hands and leaning into each other. “Both of you.”

The rest of the train ride went peacefully. Hermione talked about her holidays, mainly about how Bella was growing and the stunning amount of property and money she had inherited.

“Seriously,” she said at one point. “If either of you ever want something, let me know. Also, I already gave you something.”

“What?” exclaimed Ginny.

“It’s a cottage in Normandy. You can go there in the summer, or whenever you want, really.” Ginny and Luna turned towards each other, each smiling, then turned and hugged Hermione.

“Thank you,” Luna said. “It will be lovely to see Ginny during the holidays.” Ginny didn’t say anything, as she couldn’t. She was tearing up at the gesture.

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

As the train finally pulled into Hogwarts, they exited the compartment, entering the carriage. Ginny looked at the Thestrals, giving them a pat before moving on.

“Hey, ‘Mione,” she said when they were inside the carriage. “Didn’t you leave with one bag?”

“Oh,” Hermione said. “Narcissa decided to buy me a bunch of clothes.”

“Narcissa?” Ginny asked incredulously. “Narcissa Malfoy?”

“That’s the one,” Hermione replied. “She’s actually really nice once you get past the outer shell. Which should be easier now,” she added. “The idea that Bella would have killed me without hesitation three years ago has made both of them rethink a lot of things.” Luna nodded, as did Ginny. There was nothing to be said, really.

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” Hermione exclaimed, slapping her forehead and digging through a bag. “I meant to tell you this earlier, and I completely forgot. Here,” she said, handing two postcard-sized cards to them, one each.

“You’re getting MARRIED?!” Ginny exclaimed, glancing between the card and Hermione, unsure of which was stranger. She finally decided on Hermione.

“Yes,” Hermione responded.

“You’ve known her for how long?!”

“Depends how you count,” Hermione replied. “Look,” she said, cutting Ginny off. “I know it’s fast. But we’re soulmates. It physically hurt to leave, and it still does. More than just pining. Our souls are connected, and that makes things more complicated. Besides,” she said, pulling off her scarf.

“Merlin’s okra fields, ‘Mione!” Ginny exclaimed. “That’s...well that’s some rather intense sex.” Luna hummed in agreement, eyes wide as the two stared at the bruises and bite marks across Hermione’s neck.

“Also,” Hermione said, wrapping the scarf back around her neck. “There’s this.” Holding out her hand, she showed them the engagement ring.

“It’s beautiful,” Ginny said, staring at it. Luna nodded.

“It’s engraved with the Black family crest,” Hermione said, smiling. “She has one too. It’s a copper ring, belonged to my father’s family, all the way back to  Niall Noígíallach. It’s enchanted to remake itself whenever the family crest changes.”

“Now I see what you meant,” Ginny said to Luna, still looking at Hermione as she sat, smiling towards nothing. “She really is glowing.”


	27. Pride and Prejudice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione adapts to her new school routine

The first few weeks back went well for Hermione. She longed for Bella, but writing letters helped. Her classes were fine, and nothing seemed changed. She was almost ready to make fun of Bella’s dire warnings when she walked towards breakfast on February 8th. Everyone was avoiding her, giving her glares. A few people even spit as she walked past. She sat across from Luna and Ginny, as she always did.

“What’s going on?” she asked in a whisper, still looking around her. Luna pushed over a copy of the  _ Daily Prophet _ . “‘Brightest Witch’ Engaged to Psycho Murderer!” the headline read.  _ Fuck _ , Hermione thought. Skimming the article, it attacked her and Bella relentlessly, ignoring the actual facts of the court case and calling Dumbledore, “a hero who tried to prevent this monstrous coupling.” Hermione buried her head in her hands and groaned.

“Hey, ‘Mione,” Ginny said. “Don’ worry about it. We’re still with you. We always will be. And fuck anyone who judges you based on this pile of garbage.” Hermione sat up, smiling at her.

“Thanks Ginny,” Hermione said softly.

That day was not easy on Hermione. Walking to potions, someone had tried to hit her with a Bat-Bogey Hex, but missed. Turning around, she shot carefully, hitting his wand with an  _ glacius  _ charm. The wood froze. When he tried to use his wand again, it broke, and Hermione laughed. Until he ran towards her from behind. He got a punch in, slamming his fist against the small of her back. Hermione turned around quickly. He tried to hit her again, and she caught his wrist, yanking him forwards and off balance. Using her heel she crushed the instep of his toe swept his legs from under him, and yanked up his arm as he fell, dislocating his shoulder. She left him groaning on the ground.

The real change and challenge after the  _ Prophet _ article was not among the students, but in the faculty. Hagrid stopped talking to her altogether. McGonagall gave her detention for the slightest offense, Sinistra avoided her, and Vector and Sprout stopped calling on her altogether. Snape treated her the same though, as did Flitwick. Slughorn treated her better, likely trying to suck up to her. Madame Pomfrey also treated her better, and specifically thanked her for forcing the truth from “that evil old man.”

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Hermione entered the Ravenclaw common room, exhausted. She flopped onto the couch, next to where Luna and Ginny were cuddled up.

“Fuck detention,” she said. Ginny turned towards her.

“Did I just hear the illustrious Hermione MacEcrae swear?” she asked, smile lighting her freckled features. Hermione just grunted in response. “What was it for this time?”

“Book wasn’t out soon enough.”

“Merlin,” Ginny said. “She really is using any excuse.” Hermione nodded, and seemed slump further into the chair. After a few minutes, she shook herself, and sat back up. Reaching into her bag, she took out one of the books she’d smuggled in. It wasn’t an illegal text, per se, but one Hermione wanted few people seeing. Fortunately, the text was written completely in Irish gaelic.

“What’s that?” Ginny asked, inquisitive as always. Hermione showed her the cover, which had a large dara knot in the center, and the title just above it. “Keen-Gail na nether?” Ginny said, butchering the pronunciation. Luna smiled at her lovingly, and Hermione tried to gently correct her.

“ _ Ceangail na nAthiar _ ,” she said. “ _ The Binding of Souls _ .” Closing the book, she lowered her voice. “There are ancient rituals associated with the marriage of soulmates, and they are deeply complicated. I have been doing research, as has Bella. Even with Uliffa officiating, there’s a lot we need to do.” Ginny simply nodded.

“Okay,” Ginny said. “Don’t get too lost in it. You’re still in school, ya know.”

“Ginevra Weasley,” Hermione said with a smile. “Are you telling me to keep my grades up?” Ginny kept a straight face for a minute, but soon all three of them were laughing at the absurdity of what had just happened.

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The next morning, Hermione was headed towards potions when Draco interrupted her.

“I need your help,” he said softly. She looked around. No one could hear them. “Room of Requirement. Six at night.” She nodded, and he moved away, towards whichever of his classes he had. She wondered what he could need, but shrugged.

Potions class was easy. Exceedingly so. Slughorn fawned over her love potion antidote. Her next class was transfiguration, which was quite the opposite. While she managed the spellwork and concepts easily, it was the teacher who made the class nearly impossible.

“Miss Granger,” McGonagall said. “Could you demonstrate the spell for the class?” Internally Hermione seethed. She hated that name, and hated how McGonagall and Dumbledore always used it. She was also more than a little irked at being asked to demonstrate a spell that they hadn’t learned the wandwork to. With a sigh, she stood up.

“Certainly, professor,” she said, moving towards the front of the class. Taking a deep breath, she steadied herself. “ _ Canis conjurus _ ,” she said, drawing her wand up, then flicking it towards the floor. A large black lab appeared, panting as the class oohed at her spell. McGonagall glared at her.

“Well done Miss Granger. Fifteen points to Ravenclaw. Have a seat.”

Somehow Hermione managed to get through the class without being given detention. McGonagall took any excuse to give her detention, which Hermione couldn’t figure out. Why would she want to spend more time with her? Was it just cruelty? Hermione shrugged, and made her way towards her room. Quickly dropping off her supplies, she moved towards the Room of Requirement, hoping to avoid people along the way. Her plan worked for a while, but soon she ran out of luck.

“Well, look who it is.” Hermione turned, seeing a pig-headed man with red hair.

“Hello Ronald,” she said, hand flickering towards her wand.

“Don’t ‘Hello Ronald me,’ you damn traitor,” he hissed. “I thought you were just an idiot, but marrying Bellatrix Lestrange? You must be as crazy as she is.” Hermione growled, tensing as she heard footsteps from behind.

“It’s Bellatrix Black,” she shot out before turning around. “Hello, Lavender. Is dear old Ron too much of a coward to fight his own battles?”

“Fuck you,” Ron said, drawing his wand. “Sectumsempra!” A flash of red light ran towards Hermione. She stepped to the side, hearing the spell crash against the wall. Ron cursed, throwing a bat-bogey hex that Hermione also dodged. She laughed, the same cackle that Bellatrix had in battle, her wand in her hand, unused. Lavender joined the fray, throwing a stunner that Hermione once again dodged. As Ron threw a rigor mortis spell, she smiled, silently blocking it. The spell was knocked back and hit him in the chest. He fell towards the floor and landed with a thunk.

“Sectumsempra!” Lavender Brown shouted. The spell fizzled against Hermione’s shield. Hermione laughed.

“Do you really think you can beat me?” she asked, blocking spell after spell with ease.

“Stupify!” Lavender yelled. Hermione blocked it again, her shield so strong the spell bounced off it, flying into Lavender’s face and throwing her to the ground. Laughing, Hermione made her way upstairs.

“There you are!” Draco said as she arrived. “Where the hell were you?”

“Ron and Lavender decided to attack me,” she said, shrugging. “What did you need help with?” Instead of responding, he paced three times in front of the wall. The door appeared, and he opened it, entering silently. Hermione followed.

“What’s this?” she asked, staring at the room. It extended a long ways back. Peruvian Instant Darkness powder was stockpiled along the tables, as were robes. The space was mostly empty, besides a cabinet at the end.

“It’s the entrance room,” he said, smiling. “For when we take the castle. The cabinet leads to Borgin and Burke’s.” He admired the room, seemingly happy with his accomplishments.

“So,” she said. “What did you need?”

“Right,” he said, refocusing himself. “I need a way to test this. On living beings. It works for objects, but I don’t know if people can get through.” Looking at Hermione, Draco’s gaze became sheepish. “I, um, would’ve used a house elf, but well,” he stammered as Hermione’s eyebrow drifted upwards. “That wouldn’t be--I mean, I--well, ya know.” He took a deep breath. “Slavery is wrong, you’re right, socanyoujustconjureabirdorsomething?” Hermione laughed, but stopped and smiled.

“I’m glad you’re coming around Draco. Now then, what was that last part?”

“Can you conjure a bird so it can fly through? I mean, they’re technically alive but disappear within a few minutes anyways, so would that work?” Hermione smiled brilliantly.

“Draco, that’s perfect! Okay, open up the cupboard.” As he did so, Hermione cast a spell, summoning three sparrows. They gracefully flew into the cupboard, and Draco closed the door. When he opened it again, they were gone.

“Yes!” he cried out. “Okay, now let’s see if they’re alive.” The two waited anxiously for three minutes, until they heard a  _ poof _ . Opening the cupboard door again, they found a note.

_ Dear Masters, _

 

_ Why have you sent birds into my shop? They are wreaking havoc and landing on priceless artifacts. Remove them immediately. _

 

_ Mr. B. _

 

“Yes!” Hermione shouted, barely restraining herself from a fist pump. She smiled at Draco. “We did it! Well, you did it. You actually got these things working!”

“Yeah,” he said, taken aback by his own success. “I really did.”


	28. Classrooms and Hallways

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione's classmates learn picking on her is useless

It was early March and Hermione felt like she could throw her book at the wall. Despite technically being almost spring, the Scottish weather was grey and miserable. The mornings often had such a thick fog she couldn’t even see the forest. Sitting down at the Ravenclaw table in the Great Hall, she sighed, playing with her cereal. Those around her quickly scooted away.

“Hey there, ‘Mione,” Ginny said a few minutes later, Luna by her side. “What’s goin’ on?” Looking up, Hermione forced a smile for her friend.

“Well, the weather is miserable, everyone outside of Slytherin and you two avoids me like the plague, and my fiancée is hundreds of kilometers away.” She sighed and looked back down, moving cereal around in the milk with her spoon.

“Well,” Ginny said cheerfully, sitting down across from her. “At least you don’t have detention again.”

“True,” was all Hermione said. She was in a deeply grey mood. Thank God she only had Defense Against the Dark Arts and Potions today.

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The path to the basement level and Slughorn’s classroom was well-populated. They left her alone. Walking swiftly into the classroom, Hermione sat towards the back. Waiting for class to start, she opened her book,  _ Bondiau Enaid _ , or  _ Soul Bonds _ . It was a Welsh tome she had found in her parent’s old mansion. The rituals it described were deeply complex and involved extensive preparation. She sighed. She wished she could leave Hogwarts early to make the preparations. Even the simpler ones from  _ Ghrá Geal _ normally took at least a week to prepare. With a sigh, Hermione began to write Narcissa, asking her to procure the necessary components for the rituals, and to pay for them from her account. They were not cheap. Gold dust, marble, dragon’s blood, and goblin-forged iron were all present in one ritual or another.

“Miss MacEcrae!” Professor Slughorn’s voice shook Hermione from her thoughts. Looking up, she saw that they would be brewing  _ Felix Felicis _ .  _ Great _ , she thought.  _ Just what we needed: power in irresponsible hands _ . “Miss MacEcrae, what is the brewing time of Felix Felicis?”

“Six months, professor,” she answered. Slughorn smiled, and turned to the rest of the class.

“Correct, five points to Ravenclaw. Now many of you may be wondering, ‘How are we going to brew a six month potion in one class period?’ In short, you won’t  _ actually _ be creating Felix Felicis. You will brew the base, and I will keep it on the low heat required for one week. By that time it will be easy to tell which of you have succeeded, and you will be graded accordingly. Now, you may start.”

Hermione practically leaped off her chair and towards the stock of ingredients. Even with everything else going on, she still loved learning, and proving her knowledge. Most of her classmates parted to let her through, save for Michael Corner.

“Really, Granger. You’ve slipped. One minute you’re making my girl a lesbian, next you’re marrying a Death Eater. Someone ought to put an end to you,” he said with a snarl. Hermione laughed in his face.

“God Michael, you’re funny.” The wizard in question grew red-faced and glared at her. “First, you can’t make someone a lesbian. Second, you can’t  _ make _ Ginny Weasley do anything. She’ll follow her heart, and she did. That it led away from you was just a bonus.” Michael Corner sneered at her.

“Awfully brave in class,” he whispered into her ear. “Let’s see how you are outside of it.” He then walked away, pushing past her. Hermione rolled her eyes and collected her ingredients. Going back to her table, she carefully shredded the horseradish. Cracking open the Ashwinder egg, she added it to the cauldron, followed by the horseradish, and put them over a medium heat. She moved on quickly, leaving the rest of the class behind. They were trying to prepare all the ingredients ahead of time. Normally that would work, but not with  _ Felix Felicis _ . There wasn’t enough time, so the ingredients had to be prepared between steps. As the class neared a close, the potion was a calm purple. Waving her wand in a figure eight, she whispered “ _ Felixempra.” _ A shimmer descended upon the potion, seeming to sink in. As it did, the potion turned silver, then a bright gold. Despite the low heat it was on, it began bubbling.

“Well done, Miss MacEcrae,” Professor Slughorn said, looking down at her cauldron. “You may be the only one who finished,” he said before adding in a conspiratorial whisper, “You know, your fiancée never quite got potions. She was brilliant, to be sure, but never had the patience for them. Still passed with an Outstanding.” He looked up at her and smiled. “Quite the pair, you two will be. Quite the pair.” Humming, he turned around and headed up the classroom. He gave a few pointers here and there to the struggling students.

Ten minutes later, class was dismissed. Hermione gathered her books quicky, heading towards the DADA classroom.

“Granger!” Turning around, she saw Michael Corner, wand drawn. He sneered at her. “Told you we had  _ unfinished business _ , Granger.” Hermione remained calm, her face blank.

“It’s MacEcrae, Michael. Or is that too hard for you to pronounce?” Gasps and chuckles soon filled the hallway. Hermione turned around to begin walking again.

“I’ll enjoy watching you die!”

“Ah,” Hermione said, turning around with a smile. “Already run out of insults? Turning to threats? How is it that you were sorted into Ravenclaw, Michael?” Laughter began to eminante in the halls. “Hmm, too mean for Hufflepuff,” Hermione said, impersonating the Sorting Hat. “Too cowardly for Gryffindor, too lazy for Slytherin, too dumb for Ravenclaw. Well, there’s a first time for everything. Guess you’ll have to go back home--wait, what’s this? Brand new felt? For me? Oh, thank you. RAVENCLAW!” Michael was bright red as the hallway filled with laughter. Many Slytherins were now there as well, having heard the commotion.

“Whatever,” he said, trying to get some momentum back. “You’ve chosen the wrong side. The Order’s going to gut Bellatrix like they did your father. Just you watch.” The hallway suddenly went quiet. Hermione’s face, once laughing, collapsed into a glare. She stared at him, walking closer, until she could poke her finger in his chest.

“I have not chosen a side,” she snarled. “I chose a person. Bellatrix Black is seventy times the person you’ll ever be. And watch your threats,” she said, poking his sternum. “You don’t have the guts or the strength to back them up.” She turned around, walking towards her class. She hoped she wasn’t late.

“Sectumsempra!” Michael cried. Hermione turned. She didn’t have time to grab her wand. She could duck, but someone behind her would take the hit.  _ God, why that spell? _ Hermione thought.  _ Why do they always use that spell? _ As the spell neared she stood in front of it, and closed her eyes. A second later she opened them. The spell had not it. In front of her stood a shield charm, power practically falling off of it. Michael’s spell had bounced off it, hitting the floor. Hermione smiled. She was just as confused as everyone else, but wasn’t about to mention it. She snapped her fingers, and Michael’s wand came towards her. Catching it, she twirled it between her fingers.

“Well Michael,” she said. “Turns out you do have guts, even if you are weak as a minnow and dumb as a rock.” She dropped his wand onto the floor and walked away.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

As she entered the Snape’s classroom, she could hear his voice call out.

“Ah Miss MacEcrae, so good of you to finally join us.” The class, shared by Ravenclaw and Gryffindor, laughed.

“Sorry professor,” she said, taking her seat. “Michael Corner tried to duel me outside the Potions room.” The class quickly fell silent as her classmates exchanged glances.

“Tried to?” Snape asked.

“He didn’t get very far,” Hermione said with a smile.

“Very well,” Snape said, turning his attention back to the class. “As I was saying, there are many ways to take someone’s wand. Potter, for example, seems obsessed with one spell in particular.” A few Ravenclaws, Hermione included, chuckled at his joke.

“It was good enough to beat Voldemort,” Harry said.  _ Impetuous as always _ , Hermione thought. Snape’s eyes flicked to the boy.

“As I recall,” Snape said in his slick, droll voice. “You said you forced the Dark Lord to briefly pause, and ran away. Hardly a defeat. And no interrupting class. Ten points from Gryffindor.” Hermione could see Harry twitching in his seat, eager to pick a fight. She couldn’t bring herself to care. He’d shown his true colors when he let Ron attack her.

“Today,” Snape continued, turning once more to the class at large. “You will be practicing a way of getting your wand back. The wordless, wandless summoning charm. It is difficult, but invaluable in a fight. Especially,” he added, looking at Harry. “If your opponent likes to give speeches. Team up in pairs. One will disarm the other, wordlessly. Then the other will summon their wand back, wordlessly. Go.” Hermione sighed, looking around the room for someone who would be her partner. Everyone was still avoiding her.

“I’m your partner today.” Hermione turned around to see Lavender Brown. She raised an eyebrow at her. Lavender just smiled cruelly.

“Alright,” Hermione said. She was looking forward to showing the cocky witch up. They moved towards the practice area, standing across from each other.

“I’ll go first,” Lavender said. Hermione nodded. Lavender flicked her wand, and Hermione’s sailed across the room. Lavender twirled it between her fingers. “So delicate,” she said, smirking at Hermione. “I wonder what would happen if it...broke?” She moved her other hand towards the wand, and Hermione opened her hand. Her wand flew into it.

“My turn,” Hermione said. Quickly, Lavender was disarmed. The rest of the class was spent with her struggling (and failing) to get it back. Almost no one had succeeded, it turned out. Harry had, halfway through the class. Marcus Bulby had managed to move his wand a little, and it had gently rolled the rest of the way.

“Very well,” Snape said to the class. “Return your partner’s wand. Miss MacEcrae, stay behind.” As the rest of the class shuffled out, Lavender yanking her wand from Hermione’s hand, Hermione walked over to Snape.

“What is it professor?” she asked. Snape looked at her, then looked towards his desk.

“You have grown considerably more powerful,” he said, looking her in the eyes. “There have always been rumors of a prophecy regarding a Black and someone of Celtic lineage. I would encourage you to keep this from both the Order and the Dark Lord.” Hermione nodded.

“Thank you professor.” She turned to leave.

“One more thing, Miss MacEcrae.” Hermione slowly turned around. “Be careful.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be honest, I'm really not sure how I feel about the quality of writing in this chapter. If you have any comments, let me know.  
> Hope you enjoyed!


	29. Preoccupation and Planning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione worries while Bella struggles with her newfound knowledge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhh!! Sorry that I didn't update last week, I lost track of time and my computer broke. As a reward for being patient, you now get a double update!  
> Enjoy~

“Twenty-five points from Ravenclaw.” Hermione struggled not to roll her eyes. She failed. “Miss Granger, did you roll your eyes?”

“No, professor,” Hermione responded dutifully.

“Rolling your eyes _and_ lying. Eighty points from Ravenclaw.”

“Come on, Professor McGonagall,” cried Marcus Belby. “Eighty points?”

“Mister Belby,” McGonagall said sharply. “Are you questioning my authority?”

“No,” Marcus Belby replied sullenly. “Sorry professor.” McGonagall nodded and turned back to the lecture.

“As I was saying before we were rudely interrupted by Miss MacEcrae’s clumsiness, over the next week you will be learning snake-conjuring spells. There are several variations, each corresponding with a different snake. We will start with the common grass snake.” She began writing down the theory of the spells. Hermione rolled her eyes again, confident that McGonagall wasn’t looking. She had read the theory on this spell years ago, and never looked forward to a repeat lesson.

Hermione pretended to take notes, instead writing another letter to Narcissa. She was worried. Bella hadn’t responded to her last two letters.

At last leaving the classroom, Hermione sighed and made her way to the owlery, her letters in her hand. She was well and truly anxious about Bella, and her eyes were downcast even as she sped up the stairs. Halfway up the stairs, Hermione ran into someone, bouncing off their robes and falling onto the stairwell. She fell down a few stairs, but managed to grab ahold of the rail and steady herself.

“I’m so sorry--” Hermione’s voice suddenly cut out when she looked up. It was Dumbledore. She had bounced into _Dumbledore_ . _Fuck_ , she eloquently thought.

“No worries, Miss Granger,” the headmaster said, eyes twinkling. “May I ask what you are doing in the owlery?” Hermione tried to control her rage. She could kill him now. It would be so easy. She forced her feelings down, but still couldn’t keep from out of her tone.

“Of course. I, Hermione _MacEcrae_ , am sending a letter to the sister of my fiancée.”

“Ah,” Dumbledore said, the twinkle in his eyes fading. “I see. Which sister?”

“There’s more than one?” Hermione asked, confused. Dumbledore smiled.

“Yes, Andromeda. She was exiled from the family for marrying a muggleborn. I am sure she would be willing to enlighten you as to the _true_ nature of your bride-to-be.” Hermione felt the growl escaping her throat, and she quickly pushed past Dumbledore, running up to the owlery. Seeing her owl, Leibniz, she attached the letter and cast a disillusion spell. He would make it past the school sensors.

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

At dinner, Luna and Ginny kept looking at her, concern on their brows. Finally, towards the end, Hermione had had enough.

“What?” she asked in exasperation.

“Your leg has been shaking all night,” Luna said in her usual calm voice, though quieter than normal. “While that is not necessarily unusual, the tempo has been fifty beats per minute faster than normal and in a different pattern. Whereas your leg normally jitters in an orderly 4/4 pattern, you are currently switching between a 5/8 and 7/8 pattern.” Luna paused. “Reminds me of the Andalusian music daddy took me to see a few years ago. Much shakier thought.” Hermione’s jaw dropped as she stared at Luna. God damn, she was observant.

“We’re worried about you,” Ginny said. Much more succinct. Also blunt. “What’s going on?” Hermione sighed, and buried her head in her hands. Pulling her head back up, she sighed again.

“I--I’m worried,” she began. “Bella hasn’t written me in two days. Which, I know,” she said, holding up her hand. “Is normal. But we write every day. We promised each other. And I’ve sent her two letters now. She hasn’t responded. I--” tears began to fall down Hermione’s face as her emotional walls came falling down. “I’m scared. I can’t keep going without her. It hurt enough when I left, and now…” Hermione stopped talking as her tears overwhelmed her. Sobs wracked her body as she buried her head in her hands.

Ginny leapt up from her seat, practically sprinting around the table. Soon she wrapped her arms around Hermione, hugging her tight. Hermione’s body shifted, her head falling on Ginny’s shoulder as she continued to cry, tears soaking into the robes.

“I--I--I just--I just wish I could see her. Wish I could be there, know what was going on, ya know?” Ginny nodded, whispering reassuring murmurs as she rubbed gentle circles into her back.

Ginny and Luna walked Hermione back to the Ravenclaw dorms after dinner. She walked under her own power, but her movements were slow, her eyes downcast. Ginny and Luna gave her the emotional support she needed to keep going, step by step. When she got into her dorm, Hermione collapsed on her bed. She didn’t even read first, just immediately fell asleep, still in her robes.

Hermione awoke with a start, her robes drenched in cold sweat. Her heart was pounding, her anxiety off the charts. Was it a nightmare? She couldn’t remember one, but that was often the case. She moved towards her desk. Hopefully some reading would help calm her down. She paused before sitting down. She took a deep breath and stilled her mind. As her own thoughts stilled, she heard a voice in her head. _No, no no!_ it screamed. _Not again!_ It kept screaming this over and over, as the words began blurring in Hermione’s mind. Her panic and heart rate kept rising, until it felt like she was choking on them. Suddenly the voice became clear to her. It was Bellatrix. Hermione grabbed her wand. She sprinted out of her room, down the stairs and out of the portrait that blocked the way to the Ravenclaw common room. She sprinted down the halls, bolting past an auror as well as Filch. They both called for her to stop, but she didn’t. She couldn’t. She needed to get to Bella, to _her_ Bella. As she ran down the stairs, there was a loud _pop_ and her gut wrench as she was yanked from Hogwarts.

Hermione appeared outside a house in a quiet muggle neighborhood. She breathed heavily. How the hell did she get through Hogwarts’ wards? She didn’t know. Right now, she didn’t care.

Looking around, she saw a figure on the ground, knees pressed to chest. It was her Bella. Running over, Hermione quickly sat down next to her dark witch.

“What’s wrong love?” she asked. “Do you want to be hugged?” Bella, tears running down her face, leaned into Hermione. Her mascara ran down her face, falling onto Hermione’s robes along with her tears. Hermione pet Bella’s hair, hands running down her black curls. “Take your time,” Hermione softly whispered, pressing her lips to Bella’s head. “I’m not leaving.”

Bella continued to cry for several minutes, gripping Hermione’s shoulder tightly as her fiancée wrapped one arm around her, petting her hair and rubbing her back with the other as she whispered soft reassurances. After a few more minutes, she pulled back, and Hermione released her arm as Bella did the same.

“Can you tell me what’s wrong love?” Hermione asked. Bella sniffled, her eyes still wet as they looking into Hermione’s. Bella’s normally ramrod posture was slouched. _Not a good sign_ , thought Hermione.

“I--the Dark Lord sent me here,” she said, turning her gaze from Hermione. “He told me to kill them. Apparently they’re the family of someone in the Order. He-he wanted them dead. Wants them dead. But I got here and it seemed so ordinary and there was a child running in the lawn next door and then his mom called him in. And I starting thinking about how nice that was, how ordinary that was, and isn’t that why you hate Dumbledore, because he stole that from you? So doesn’t everyone deserve that kind of happiness? And then I started thinking about what you said earlier, that everyone deserves respect and the whole “murdering in cold blood” thing isn’t very respectful and after that I started thinking about you and how you grew up with muggles and how if the Dark Lord had won the last war you never would have gone to Hogwarts or met me or taught me about humanity while I taught you about magic and that’s what I want to do Hermione, I want to sit beside you every day, reading books on philosophy and humanity while you read tomes on ancient spells and every night when we get ready for bed we can talk about all we learned and laugh because what we learned is what the other one grew up knowing and--” Bella was cut off when Hermione dipped her head and kissed her gently on the lips.

“I know Bella,” she said softly. “I want that too. More than anything. You know, you don’t _have_ to do it.”

“Yes, I do,” Bella responded. “I have to do what he says. If I don’t then I get punished, and that pain hurts but not as much as it’ll hurt if he decides to hurt you instead to get to me. I couldn’t live with that Hermione,” she said, gripping Hermione’s robes tight. “I couldn’t live if something I did got you hurt or killed.”

“We could run away. Run far away, away from everything. Or,” Hermione said, with a knowing smirk, “You could lie to him.”

“WHAT?!”

“You could.”

“No one can lie to him. He’s too powerful a legilimens, I can’t keep him out of my mind.”

“Bella,” Hermione said, smiling. “You can keep him out of parts of your mind. Let him browse something else. Your fears of how this attack would go. I don’t know if you’ve noticed it, but you’re an amazing and incredibly powerful witch. And our strength has increased drastically since we met, or at least mine has. For Merlins’ sake,” she said, throwing her hands up. “I apparated from _inside_ Hogwarts.”

“Wait, what?”

“Yeah. I don’t know how either. But you can do it. I believe in you.” Bella smiled up at Hermione.

“Thanks love,” she said softly. “Thank you for coming here. I--I needed it.”

“So did I,” Hermione said. “I really needed to see you again.” They stood up, and Bella leaned in, kissing Hermione on the lips, far from the gentle kiss Hermione had pressed upon her a few minutes ago. Her tongue pressed against Hermione’s lips, which quickly slip aside, allowing Bella’s tongue to slip inside her mouth. Bella’s hand gripped the small of her back. Hermione moaned at the touch she had craved for so long. Her body leaned into Bella’s, pressing her breasts into Bella’s. Bellatrix felt herself getting wet as she inhaled Hermione’s moan, sucking it into her lungs.

At last the two broke apart, breathing heavily.

“You--I have to go,” Bella said, trying to recover her breath. “I have to say though, I feel much better about facing down the Dark Lord.”

“Good,” Hermione said, smiling brilliantly at her fiancée. “I’m pretty sure I’ll survive the next three weeks as well.” Bella laughed and Hermione smiled, staring into the blue eyes of her lover. There was so much yet to come, and so much that had already happened. After another kiss, far more gentle, they parted. Bellatrix apparated to one of the Dark Lord’s secret hideouts. Hermione appeared just outside the Hogwarts warding limits. She paused, casting a disillusionment spell and a muffling spell on herself.

As she approached the castle she saw teams of aurors running around the grounds frantically. She sneaked past them, avoiding their detection spells as she weaved invisibly across the field. Sneaking into the castle, she heard Dumbledore and McGonagall talking. Carefully walking up behind them, she listened into their conversation.

“Where do you think she went?”

“I don’t know, Minerva. And before you ask, I don’t know how either. Clearly we need stronger wards to keep our more . . . _unique_ students within Hogwarts’ walls.”

“Do you think she’ll be returning?”

“I hope so.”

As she heard footsteps, Hermione quickly moved away, sprinting up the stairs, towards the tower that contained the Ravenclaw dormitories. Slipping through the door with a whispered answer ( _Yes, she knew time would defeat all things, honestly had these people never read Tolkien?_ ) she moved up to her bed. Changing quickly, she quickly flopped onto her bed and fell asleep.


	30. Meeting the Family, Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione meets an in-law and makes the beginnings of a new friendship

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's a bit long, about 3000 words. Just a head up.  
> This chapter has nothing to do with Meeting the Family (chapter 13) other than being in the same story.

The next day, as Hermione walked from the common room towards the Great Hall. As she left there were massive cries of “there she is!” She turned around, confused. One of the aurors--the one with pink hair who dressed like an ‘80s punker--came up and hugged her.

“The hell were you ‘Mione?” she said.

“Oh--I--huh?” Hermione sputtered. “How do you know my name?”

“I know many things, Hermione MacEcrae,” the pink-haired woman said threateningly. As Hermione’s face contracted in fear, the pink-haired woman laughed. “Oh God it’s good to laugh. Sorry, couldn’t help myself. I’m a friend of Ginny and Luna, m’ name’s Tonks.” She stuck out her hand, and Hermione met it, smiling. “Really was worried for you, ‘specially with the marriage coming up.” Hermione was shocked, her tone sounded serious.

“Wait, you don’t object? I thought the aurors here were all in the Order.”

“Yeah, I am.”

“Well then, don’t you hate me? Aren’t those Dumbledore’s orders?” Tonks laughed again, then wrapped her arm around Hermione’s shoulder and started walking back towards the Great Hall.

“Well, sure, most of ‘em hate you. But that’s their problem. See, thing is, I don’t really care what they think. Luna and Ginny say you’re good, and that’s enough for me.” Hermione stopped walking and turned towards Tonks. She was staring at her in pure amazement. “What?”

“I just--I mean-- I never thought anyone outside of Slytherin would see me as a person again.”

“Jesus mate,” Tonks said as Hermione hugged her tightly. “Please tell me my fellow ‘puffs aren’t acting like that.” Hermione shrugged and let go. They continued walking.

“Most of them avoid me. Can’t blame them too much, but it is grating.”

“I’d imagine. ‘Course, even if I didn’t know Ginny and Luna, I’d still wanna know you.”

“Why’s that?”

“Gotta know family, luv.” Hermione stopped walking and turned towards Tonks again.

“Family?”

“Yeah, your dear Bella is my aunt.”

“What?!”

“Yeah, my mum’s the middle child, Andromeda. Got kicked out of the family? For marrying my dad? Anyways, ever since January or so, Bellatrix and Narcissa have been owling me, asking how to apologize. I’m kinda shit at it, so I told them to ask someone else. Anyways, point of it is, the Black family is back together and at the very least part of it is due to you. So yeah, Dumbledore can go shag the Giant Squid, I’ll stick with family.” Hermione stood silently for a while, struggling to process what had been said. And how it had been said. Then she laughed and threw her arm around Tonks.

“Thank the gods I met you. Talk about a breath of fresh air!”

“What, do other people not go telling their bosses to mate with oversized cephalopods?”

“Generally not, no.”

“What boring lives those people must lead.” Laughing again, Hermione and Tonks walked to the Great Hall, where they sat down with Luna and Ginny.

“Ah, Tonks,” Ginny said, smiling. “You ever find out where Hermione went?”

“Well, according to the preponderance of evidence,” Tonks began, changing her face and voice into those of a BBC 2 anchor. “It would appear that Miss MacEcrae went somewhere, for some amount of time, and returned to her room later than when she left. Other than that, we know nothing, which leads us to believe that either Miss MacEcrae is a great and powerful witch, or that the aurors, your anchor included, are dumber than rocks. Or, in all likelihood, both.”

Ginny was almost crying from laughter, and Luna’s giggles floated through the air like butterflies. Hermione was in stitches. When it all concluded, she had one question to ask.

“How do you two know about BBC anchors?”

“Ah, well,” Tonks began. “Order headquarters are--” she paused.

“Boring as fuck,” Ginny responded.

“Intriguingly plain,” Luna replied with a smile. She always found the positives.

“Well, I’m more with Ginny. Anyways, I managed to get a portable generator and a small TV up there. Couldn’t connect to shit, so we patched into someone else’s network and watched BBC. And then some American films.  _ Live Tough _ or something.”

“ _ Die Hard _ ,” Ginny corrected. When they turned to look at her she crossed her arms. “What? Seeing explosions was fun! I found the rest of them, watched them while you two were out having fun.”

“Oh, you mean while I was out stopping Moldy Voldy?” Hermione sniggered at that. Tonks gave her a winning smile. The four continued to tell jokes and laugh until breakfast was finally dismissed. As they were leaving the table, Tonks bumped into the table, spilling pumpkin juice everywhere. They all laughed.

“Gods Tonks,” Hermione said. “I hope you won’t be that clumsy at my wedding. You are coming, right?”

“‘Course I’m coming!” the pink-haired witch said. “Can’t promise anything about the clumsiness though. Kinda notorious for it.” Hermione smiled at her, but Tonks wouldn’t quite meet her eyes.

“I’ll just place you far, far away from the ritual lines,” Hermione said. She looked at Tonks more closely. “Are you okay?”

“Sure, yeah, definitely,” the pink-haired witch said. As Hermione moved to pass her, Tonks pressed a note into her hands and quickly moved by. Looking at it in a secluded corner on her way to Herbology, she read the note.

_ Meet me in the forest. Ten paces to the left of Hagrid’s cabin, fifteen into the forest. 7pm. _

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Herbology class was fine. Ravenclaw was paired with Hufflepuff for that class. Professor Sprout largely avoided Hermione, and most of the Hufflepuffs followed the lead of their Head of House. Most, but not all.

“Hello, would you like to be partners?” Hermione turned around and stared at the short dirty-blonde girl in front of her.

“Are, um, are you talking to me?” she said, confusion etched on her words.

“Yeah, who else would I be talking to?” Hermione, still confused, looked around. People hadn’t settled on partners yet.

“Anyone else?”

“Why, do you want to be alone? Because I can leave if you want, I just thought--”

“Oh, no!” Hermione said, almost shouting, before quickly moving towards the girl. “I’m just used to most people avoiding me at all costs. Other than Slytherin. Them  _ I  _ avoid at all costs.” The girl laughed heartily at that.

“May I ask why?” she said with a smile.

“They all think I can get the Dark Lord to give them status or power or some shit. One third-year asked if I could make him a Death Eater. A  _ third-year _ ! I avoided them after that.”

“Yeah, that sounds really disturbing,” the girl said, recoiling at the image. “Sorry most people are avoiding you. Sounds kinda shit.”

“Yeah, it is. Oh well,” Hermione said with a shrug. “We should probably start on the assignment.” The girl’s face lit up with a smile.

“So we’re partners!”

“As long as you want to be. Although it would be helpful to know your name.” The girl laughed again.

“Right, sorry. Forgot about that. I’m Susan Bones. My aunt told be a bit about you. Said you were the first person to outsmart Dumbledore in several decades. Sorry I didn’t reach out earlier. Didn’t know everyone was avoiding you.” Hermione smiled gently at Susan.

“No worries Susan. I mean, I do have friends here. Two. Maybe three. Four if you’re in.” Susan leapt into Hermione, hugging her tightly.

“Yes, of COURSE I’m in! Oh,” she said, releasing Hermione. “Sorry. I’m a bit of a hugger.”

“It’s okay,” said Hermione, a little shaky. “Warning would be nice though. Sorry.”

“Why on earth are you apologizing?” Hermione stammered. She couldn’t put it into words, it was just something she felt she had to do. “Don’t apologize for setting boundaries, Hermione,” Susan said gently. Hermione smiled up at her.

“Thanks.” The two girls turned to the assignment at last. Looking over it, they saw they would be taking care of a Whomping Willow sapling for the next few weeks. Hermione smiled as Susan recoiled in horror.

“How the hell are we supposed to do that? They attack almost anything,” Susan said.

“Hush,” Hermione replied. “They’re just a little jumpy and touchy. Play nice.” Leaning towards the Whomping Willow, she spoke softly.

“Hou, keresikyn. Ow kowethes hag I mednys boosata. Alawi ma?” The tree’s branches swayed slowly, seeming to absorb Hermione’s words. Hermione remained focused on the tree, although she could see Susan’s confusion and astonishment from her peripheries. After a while, one branch trailed to the soil the sapling was planted in. It slowly moved, crafting it’s answer. Looking over, Hermione read it aloud. “Ea, helyk-kowethes.” Hermione gasped as she read the last word, tears falling from her face. Looking up, she saw Susan’s face, looking in confusion and amazement.

“What happened? Is everything okay? What did you say? What did it say?” Hermione chuckled, wiping away her tears.

“Everything is more than fine,” she said, her face alight in a massive smile. “It--it called me ‘willow-friend.’”

“What?” Turning, Hermione and Susan saw Professor Sprout quickly moving towards them. When she reached them, her eyes were wide. “Okay, what happened?” The Willow began to shake. Sensing it’s anxiety, Hermione reached out a hand and gently pet the Willow’s trunk. That seemed to calm it slightly. She the turned towards it and began to speak.

“Ny ownydh, ow keresikyn. Hei ny shydita.” Turning towards Professor Sprout, she took on a harsher tone, with fire in her eyes. “Ny alowyn.” The branches of the willow closed around Hermione’s hand, hugging it tight. Looking back down at it, she smiled. Turning back, Professor Sprout was staring at her, eyes wide.

“How astonishing! I am most impressed,” she said, smiling. “There are very few amongst our kind who speak to trees, even fewer who try to speak their language.” Hermione smiled and shrugged. “Still, that cannot be all. Did you do anything else?”

“No,” Hermione said. “I asked if I could feed it. Although,” she said, smiling again. “I am the descendant of two great lines of druids, and marrying the descendant of another.”

“Ah, yes,” Professor Sprout said, her eyes open. “That may be part of it, Miss MacEcrae. There must be more, however. They are a notoriously fickle kind, the Willows. Could it be primal magic?” she asked, beginning to talk to herself. “But what kind of primal magic could she have? She’s no trained druid--they died out before the conquest--wrong region for one of the Wu-Jen, didn’t grow up attuned to the forest...could she? No, the world hasn’t seen soulmates in hundreds of years. Oh! Sorry,” Professor Sprout said, jumping a little and gathering her notes. “I will leave you three to it then. Goodbye.” With that she hurried off towards another group, who were being rough. Hermione growled at the wizards.  _ The trees are small! They can’t run! How dare they?! _ Shaking herself from her revery, Hermione led Susan in feeding, watering, and tending to the adorable little Whomping Willow before them.

As class ended, Hermione bent down and pressed a gentle kiss to the tree’s crown. The Willow’s branches reached out, holding her hand until she left. For once, she left a class smiling. Until, that is, she saw the two wizards who had been treating the Whomping Willow roughly. She frowned, eyes beginning to blaze as she suppressed a growl. Drawing her wand, Hermione looked at them. She then turned around, where Susan Bones was standing. Hermione sheepishly put away her wand.

“What were you doing?” Susan asked.

“Nothing.” As the two walked, Susan raised her eyebrow.

“Fine, I was about to hex those two who roughed up a willow.” Susan laughed for a while.

“My God,” she said with a smile. “My aunt was right. You certainly don’t do anything by half.”

“No,” said Hermione with a wicked smile. “I don’t.” With lightning speed she drew her wand and flicked it towards the two wizards in front of them. An invisible beam of power hit the one in front, knocking him down.

“Hey!” he said, standing back up, turning towards his partner. “The fuck was that?”

“The fuck was what?” his partner asked.

“You pushed me!”

“Bullshit. You’re just clumsy.”

“Well, at least I can stumble my way into a woman’s bed,” the fallen one said with a sneer. His opponent bellowed, then punched him in the face. The one who fell took it, and then began punching his opponent. Neither was particularly good at dodging, but they both had muscle and packed a punch. Hermione smiled as she and Susan walked around them. After a minute or so, Professor McGonagall ran into the hall.

“Mr. Travers, Mr. Flint! What are you doing?” They began to speak but she cut them off. “Detention of both of you!”

“Lucky bastards,” Hermione muttered under her breath. Susan raised her eye quizzically. “McGonagall once gave me a week of detentions for talking under my breath.”

“What?”

“Yeah. Life’s been weird since that article came out.” Susan nodded, probably not wanting to comment. The two split at the stairs, Hermione walking to the library and taking out her own books.

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Hermione sat contentedly and read  _ Cuimhneacháin Éamon MacEcrae _ , the memoirs of her great-great-great granduncle. He had tried to organize the Irish Wizarding community into rebelling against the British Ministry of Magic. It was during the Great Potato Famine, which (as Hermione was learning) was caused by forced monocropping while the starvation was largely due to the British “Corn Laws” which took almost all seed grains from Ireland. Unfortunately for her ancestor, most of the rich Irish wizards had invested in the shipping companies that were making a fortune taking grain from the Irish peasants and selling imported grains to them at exorbitant rates. It was definitely an interesting read, although it was far from impartial. His memoir, written during his twenty-year imprisonment in Azkaban, had been sent to his family one page at a time using house elf magic. They had published it in 1869, following his death in Azkaban. It was as much an anti-imperial, nationalist, and anti-elite manifesto as it was a memoir. Hermione didn’t agree with all of it, but it was definitely well-written. Besides, it was nice to know not all of her ancestors were classist pure-blood supremacists.

Looking up at the clock, Hermione was shocked.  _ Fuck _ , she thought. She double-checked Tonk’s note. It was already 6:50. Shoving her book into her bag, Hermione pulled out her wand and cast a quick disillusionment charm before sprinting down the stairs and out the castle doors. She breathed a sigh of relief when she saw none of the aurors guarding the door inside and out had noticed her. She ran quickly towards the forest by Hagrid’s cabin. Once she reached the treeline Hermione walked slowly, careful not to make too much noise. A minute in, she saw Tonks and smiled, dispelling her disillusionment charm.

“Ah!” Tonks gasped before chuckling. “So, that’s how you avoided us then.”

“I cannot comment on that,” Hermione said with a devious smile. “Now then, what did you want to talk about?”

“Ah. Yeah.” Tonks shuffled awkwardly, foot to foot, crunching leaves and twigs as she did. She was wringing her hands, and her hair was changing color quickly.

“Hey,” Hermione said gently, reaching out to hold Tonk’s hands, stopping her wringing. “Calm down. I’m marrying your aunt. I won’t kill you.” Tonks laughed, and though her hair reverted to its normal pink she remained tense.

“If you say so. Right then. So, um, Dumbledore kinda ordered me to spy on you.”

“ _ What? _ ” Hermione hissed. She was shocked. Outraged. She felt fury rising, but only for a moment. It quickly gave way to betrayal and hurt. “Is that why you talked to me?” she asked, her voice soft and meek.

“What? No, definitely not.” Tonk sounded shocked. She moved towards Hermione, wrapping her arms around the shaking witch. “I’ve been working up the nerve to talk to you for a while. Don’t worry,” she said with a smile. “And don’t worry about the spying thing either. Honestly, it’s pretty fuckin’ creepy. Dude’s like a bajillion years old and asks me, a twenty-something, to spy on a teenager. Who goes to his school. That I guard. Pretty fucked up, right?” Hermione laughed, burying her head in Tonk’s shoulder.

“Not even close to the most fucked-up thing he’s done. Not even close to the worst he’s done  _ to me _ .” Tonks pulled back, deeply confused.

“Wait, what?” Hermione’s mouth dropped wide.

“You don’t know?” she asked softly. Tonks shook her head. “He--he’s the one that put me in an English muggle orphanage. And hid my parentage from me. Obfuscated Madame Pomfrey for doing it.”

“What? No, that’s not possible,” Tonks said, chuckling nervously as she backed away. “He’s Dumbledore. Dumbledore! He’s fucking weird and has unhealthy obessions, but he-he wouldn’t do that.”

“Look at the court records,” Hermione responded softly. “He was under veritaserum. If the record was erased, there’s a  _ Quibbler _ article.” Tonks nodded, clearly shaken. Hermione took a deep breath. “Well, I should head to the hall if I want to eat dinner. See you around.”

“Yeah,” Tonks said, her eyes flickering around as if looking for prank show cameras. “See you ‘round.”


	31. Nerves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a fluff chapter, showcasing Hermione's pre-wedding jitters

Two days later, Hermione was greeted by a strange sight as she walked into the Great Hall. Sitting across from Luna and Ginny at the Ravenclaw table was Tonks, slumped over. Her head lying flat on the table, hair flat. Hermione sat down next to her.

“Hey, is she okay?” Hermione asked in a whisper.

“Yeah, she’s just real tired. And stressed. I think,” Ginny said while eating a pastry. Luna leaned over and wiped the crumbs off her partner’s chin.

“Hmm, wha’s that?” Tonks said, sleepily raising her head. She blinked a few times. “Ah! ‘Mione! Hi.”

“Hello to you too, Tonks. Are you okay?” Tonks shrugged.

“Close enough. Took forever to find the records. But, uh, yeah. You were right. Fuck.”

“Yeah, that’s pretty much how I feel,” Hermione replied. “Don’t worry though. You don’t need to work for him to protect people.”

“Yeah,” Tonks said. “Just need to figure out how.”

“Here if you need me,” Hermione said.

“You can always protect animals and plants,” Luna volunteered in her patented dreamy voice. “They always get left behind.” Tonks nodded, though her gaze was distant, then stood.

“See you bunch later. I’ve gotta go patrol something.” With that she left.

 

The rest of the day went by in a flash. Hermione’s days did that often now. She remained still as possible in Transfiguration. She was quiet in all her classes, making sure to pair up with someone who didn’t hate her. Ideally she’d pick someone who was nice, but that wasn’t usually an option. Herbology was good. She’d become friends with all the trees, and was  _ very _ protective of them. Professor Sprout seemed to be fine with it. She’d looked the other way when Hermione stormed over and yelled at the same two wizards brutalizing the Willow again. They’d been defensive at first, but changed their tune after a few well-placed hexes.  _ No one _ messed with her trees. She was very attached to them. In fact, she’d asked Professor Sprout what was to happen with them after this lesson plan was finished.

“Well,” Professor Sprout had said with a look of deep sadness. “They’re being sold.”

“WHAT?!”

“Yeah. I--I don’t like it. At all. But it’s the only way we can afford this lesson. This is their last year small enough to be teaching saplings.” Hermione frowned and let out a growl. Then her face shifted, and she portrayed a smirk.

“Have they been bought already?” she asked.

“Most haven’t,” Professor Sprout said. “Two were already purchased by a group in Germany trying to restore druidism and the sacred forests. The rest haven’t been.”

“I’ll buy them,” Hermione said. “All of them.” Sprout’s eyes widened towards dinner plate size.

“That’s very nice dear, but they’re rather expensive?”

“Do you know how much money I just inherited?”

“They’re seventy-five hundred galleons each.” Hermione shrugged.

“How many are there?”

“Twenty-six. So you’d be buying twenty-four.” Hermione pulled out a small booklet from her bag. She wrote quickly with a quill, then pulled out her wand.

“ _ Personas verificas _ ,” she said. A searing gold mark appeared over the booklet, then emblazoned itself on the back of the page she’d written on. “Here,” she said, tearing out the page and handing it to Professor Sprout. “It’s a check. Go to Gringotts and they’ll cash it from my account.” Professor Sprout looked from the check to Hermione, then to the check again. She nodded slowly, her eyes wide. “Great!” Hermione said with a smile. She was looking forward to creating a sacred forest of her own.

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

As the days passed by Hermione spent her time reading and writing. She was getting antsy. Her wedding was coming up and there wasn’t anything she could do to help prepare. School let out on the 26th of March and her wedding was on the 29th. That was barely enough time to finish preparing the rituals. She was pacing constantly, something that Luna and Ginny bore the brunt of.

“Merlin, ‘Mione,” Ginny had shouted out the night of the 25th in the Ravenclaw common room. “Keep pacing and you’ll wear your legs down to nubs.” Hermione had forced a laugh, but it came out as a single loud “HA!” After that Ginny had shut her book and squeezed out of Luna’s embrace.

“Okay love,” she said, looking Hermione in the eyes. Or trying. Hermione refused to meet her gaze. “What’s wrong? What are you so worried about?”

“Everything!”

“Come on, be more specific. Please.”

“I-I--I’m worried. That it won’t be right. That we’ll fuck something up. That she’ll realize it was a huge mistake and leave me. Or worse, that we get the rituals wrong and she dies. It-it’s possible. It’s happened twice before. If we’re wrong, if we’re not interpreting this correctly, w-we could both die. Or just one of us. I-I-I can’t live without her.” Hermione looked up, staring Ginny in the eyes, her own filled with tears. “I can’t. It hurts to be away. I feel the distance tearing at my soul. I-if she dies I-I--” Hermione broke down, sobbing into Ginny’s robes as she held her redheaded friend tight. “And even-even if we do everything right, and we are right, she-she could still die. I-it’s war and she--” Hermione’s body was wracked with sobs. She tried and failed to continue many times, until she took a deep breath. “She’s at the center of it. We’re playing a dangerous game. She could be killed. It-it’s-it’s--” Hermione was once again cut off as sobs wracked her body. Ginny held her up as Hermione’s legs gave out.

“There there,” Ginny said, holding Hermione tight. “She’s a powerful witch. She’ll be fine. Besides,” she said with a smile. “She has you to protect her. No one you’ve protected has ever died.” Hermione sniffled but smiled.

“Thanks Gin.”

“It’s no problem. Now,” she said, holding Hermione at arm length. “Go and sleep. I’d rather not have your fearsome bride yelling at me for keeping you up to late.” Hermione laughed but made her way into her bedroom. Slipping off her clothes, Hermione brushed her teeth and threw on some PJs. She collapsed into her bed, letting sleep take her away.


	32. Home is where the Heart is

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione apparates to Bella's somewhat compromised location

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is mostly fluff and smut, just a heads up. There's a bit of subtle character growth/healing though. Enjoy!

On the morning of the 26th Hermione couldn’t wait for the Hogwarts Express and its slow crawl across the country. Instead she rushed towards Hogsmeade. The second her feet left Hogwarts school grounds she apparated, letting her love take her away.

She appeared in Bella’s large shower.

“Merlin, who--WHAT THE FUCK HERMIONE?” Bella yelled. “You apparated into my  _ fucking shower _ ?”

“Oh-uh-sorry,” Hermione stammered, staring at her love.  _ God she’s beautiful _ . “I just kinda let my love take over and it just moved me to you. Like it did a month ago.” Bella smiled, apparently over the shock. Her grin quickly turned wolfish as she stared down at Hermione. Hermione gulped.

“You,” Bella drawled. “Are wearing far too many clothes for a shower.” Hermione smiled wickedly at her love.

“I thought we were supposed to get clean in showers,” she said, taking off her robes and flinging them over the steamed-over glass door. “Not dirty.” She approached Bella, unclasping her bra and slipping off her panties. Bella growled and grabbed Hermione, yanking her towards herself. Hermione yelped, and then moaned as Bella ran a finger across her slit.

“Missed this, have you?” Bella asked. Hermione couldn’t see her dark witch’s face, but knew she was smirking. “So have I,” Bella whispered, running her hands up to Hermione’s breasts. She massaged them, gently pulling on the hardening nipples. Suddenly Bella leaned down, biting hard onto Hermione’s neck. The young witch moaned as Bella pulled her hair back, exposing her neck to further bites and hickeys. Bella covered her neck in the marks, growling as she did. Hermione shivered as she moaned. It always turned her on when Bella was possessive like this.

Turning her love around, Bella wrapped her hand under Hermione’s dripping pussy. As hot water ran over them she pulled her little witch up, onto her bent knee. Hermione wrapped her arms around Bella, kissing her lover as she began to move against her love’s thigh.

“That’s it love,” Bella growled, pressing Hermione closer to her. “Keep rubbing your cunt against my thigh like the slut you are.” Hermione moaned, her head leaning back as she followed Bella’s instructions. She moaned louder and felt her eyes close as Bella’s mouth wrapped around her breasts, sucking half of her left tit into her mouth. Bella let it out with a pop, then turned to the right breast, doing the same. She released it, then it up again. This time she bit down on the nipple and Hermione shrieked in pleasure, her body arching as her pussy rubbed again and again against Bella’s thigh.

“Bella,” Hermione gasped. “Bella--I need you. I need you in me.” Bella stopped, pausing as she looked Hermione in the eyes.

“Are you sure?” she asked. “Don’t do this for me.”

“I’m not,” Hermione said, looking at her love. “I’m doing this for us, and for me. Take me. Take me Bella. Be my first, my true first.” Bella smiled wide, her breath hitching at Hermione’s words. Later, Bella would tell Hermione just how much her words meant. For now she kissed Hermione on the mouth, her tongue flicking down into Hermione’s mouth as she pulled the young witch closer, one hand wrapped around her back, the other slowly trailing its way down Hermione’s chest.

“Pleeease,” Hermione whined. “Bella, I--” she was cut off by her own gasp as Bella’s fingers suddenly leaped down, trailing over her slit.

“You were saying?” Bella asked, a wicked smirk on her face.

“I-I-Ohhhhhhh,” Hermione moaned as Bella’s pointer finger entered her gently, slowly exploring her limits. Bella was going too slow. She pushed her hips forward against Bella’s finger. Bella looked up and smirked at her. She put another finger in, slowly teasing her lover.

“Bella! Please!” Hermione whined again.

“Please what?”

“Please fuck me-eeeeee!” Hermione’s cry was drawn out as Bella flicked her little witch’s clit with her thumb, as the same time driving her fingers deeper. “Yes, yes Bella, oh gods yes.” Hermione moaned with wanton need as Bella began fucking her in ernest. Her fingers flicked in and out while her thumb drew circles on Hermione’s clit. She sucked at Hermione’s breast, pulling back and stretching Hermione’s nipples out with her teeth. Still, she was sure to be gentle. She’d seen what had happened. She wanted create a different memory. One so loving, so powerful it would eclipse the other.

“Look at me love,” Bella said, fingers moving in and out of Hermione. Hermione’s head, previously hanging back as her body arched in ecstacy, came down, looking down with barely open eyes. Hermione’s body shivered, then trembled. Bella knew she was close and picked up her speed, rubbing ever stronger circles onto Hermione’s clit as her small goddess moaned and swore, eyes still open. Her arms were wrapped around Bella, keeping them steady as Bella’s other hand kept Hermione’s head still, maintaining their eye contact.

“I love you,” Bella said as her pace picked up again. “I love you,” she said again, kissing Hermione’s neck. She trailed kisses down Hermione as her little witch tried to speak.

“I--I--Beeella! I l-love you--too,” Hermione said, hips thrusting, fucking herself on Bella’s hand. “Oh God, oh God Bella I’m--I’m--” Bella looked into her love’s eyes and grinned, hunger rising from her eyes.

“Cum for me, little witch.” Hermione humped down again and then screamed, her body shaking in pleasure as Bella continued her movements, slowing them as Hermione’s screams stopped, helping her love ride out the orgasm. When Hermione stopped shaking Bella took out her hand.

“Oh God, Bella,” Hermione said, staring into her fiancée’s eyes with pure love. “That--that was incredible.” Bella’s face dipped forward, and she pecked her little witch on the lips with a small kiss. Hermione smiled, then wrapped her hands in Bella’s hair and pulled her love down, passionately kissing her. As they kissed, one hand left Bella’s hair, snaking its way down her body. It tweaked her nipples, causing her to moan into Hermione’s mouth as the kiss continued. As it slid lower, Bella’s knees weakened, and she almost fell out of the kiss. Hermione surged forward, keeping their lips connected as she pressed Bella against the shower wall. Her hand drew lower, teasing around Bella’s thighs, sneaking around but never quite touching her where she wanted. Hermione pulled out of the kiss with a smirk.

“What is it, little--OHhhhhhh,” Bella began to growl, cut off by her own cries of pleasure as two of Hermione’s fingers entered her. Her lead lolled back, eyes momentarily glazing over in pleasure. Hermione grabbed her hair, yanking her head back down.

“Look at me,” Hermione said, tone brooking no argument. “Look me in the eyes while I get you off.”  _ Merlin she’s so sexy _ , Bella thought. She cried out again as Hermione picked up speed, curling her fingers just right to hit against Bella’s g-spot. Hermione’s other hand kept Bella looking at her, in the eyes. Bella wanted to look away at first, but the raw, needy hunger in her little witch’s eyes captivated her. Her screams began again, higher in pitch as she felt energy building up inside her and her knees began to shake. She reflexively closed her eyes as Hermione’s thumb flicked against her clit, the energy building up almost unbearable. And then the dam broke, and the energy was released as she shook, head falling back as she cried Hermione’s name.

It took a few minutes to get herself back together. When she did, she smiled at Hermione.

“I think we should move out of the shower, little witch,” she said, her tone teasing and seductive. “Don’t you agree?” Hermione swallowed and nodded, her pupils dominating her eyes. With a smirk, Bella shut off the water and led her little witch out of the shower. They dried off, if only for a minute. Hermione was still drying off when Bella leapt on her, pushing her onto the bed and straddling her legs.

“We aren’t done yet, little witch.” Hermione shook her head, throwing the towel she’d been using off the bed. Bellatrix smiled and thrust her hips against Hermione’s, causing her little witch to moan in pleasure.  _ Merlin _ , she thought, looking at Hermione’s face, mouth hanging open and emitting soft moans, eyes closed as Bellatrix played with her tits and tweaked her nipples.  _ I could get off just looking at that face. _ Bellatrix smiled again, leaning down and taking Hermione’s nipple into her mouth. Fortunately, she didn’t have to.

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

Two hours later, Bellatrix and Hermione walked downstairs, hand in hand.

“Fucking hell,” Hermione whispered as they entered the parlor. “My nipples are  _ still sore _ .” Bellatrix laughed, smiling at her little witch, kissing her on the nose.

“Then how do you think my cunt feels?” she asked in the same whisper, smiling as Hermione blushed at the word. “You did quite a number on me, little witch.” Hermione smiled up at her despite the full tomato blush, then pulled both of them down onto the couch. Her little witch pulled out a book from her bag and leaned back until her head rested on Bellatrix’s lap. Bellatrix smiled, marveling at how her love could in half an hour go from biting her clit while fisting her to reading some obscure text.

“What book is that?” she asked, after a few moments in revery of their time upstairs. Hermione sat the book on her chest, looking up at Bellatrix from her lap. Something about having Hermione on her lap, looking into her eyes simply filled Bellatrix with love. Her ears were buzzing with happiness, and she shook her head, trying to hear Hermione’s answer.

“It’s the  _ Bondiau Enaid _ , the bonding of souls. I’m just looking over some of the rituals for our wedding.” Bellatrix’s smile went absurdly large at that point, wider than it had ever been.

“Our wedding,” she whispered. “I can’t believe I get to marry you.”

“Nor I you,” Hermione said, sitting up. She leaned into Bellatrix and kissed her gently. Bellatrix pushed into the kiss, holding Hermione’s head as she slipped her tongue into Hermione’s mouth, their two muscles meeting and tangling as the shared their love with each other. Neither of them heard the door open, or the footsteps coming. They would later regret that fact.

“Bella?” Narcissa’s voice called out. “Hermione wasn’t on the train. Draco said she apparated from Hogwarts, have you--Oh!” Bellatrix acted instinctively, yanking Hermione onto her lap as she turned to look at her younger sister. “I guess you have seen her then,” Narcissa said with a smirk. Hermione waved shyly.

“Hello,” Hermione said. “Sorry I ditched the train.” Narcissa rolled her eyes.

“Nonsense, really, how you’re all supposed to take that thing down to London. Apparating is so much quicker. But how didn’t I see you? I was still in the house when you would have arrived.”

“Oh, um--” Hermione paused, blushing. “I kinda apparated into Bella’s shower.” Narcissa’s eyes went wide, staring at her.

“How the--wait,  _ why _ ?”

“It’s where she was,” Hermione said meekly, with a shrug. “I just apparated to where she was.”

“Well,” Narcissa said, hand massaging her head as she stared at the brunette witch. “Okay, I guess. How did you get through our wards? And how many of them do we need to repair?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about that,” Bellatrix added. “Cissy, she apparated out of Hogwarts. I’m not sure any of us could create wards she couldn’t get through.” Narcissa stared at Hermione.

“How?!” Hermione shrugged.

“Merlin,” Narcissa said, flopping into a chair. She never flopped. Her hand continued to massage her forehead.


	33. Preparation and Precaution

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione sets up the wedding rituals and sends Bella into a tizzy

While Hermione and Bella had been able to spend the morning in peace (as no one knew Hermione was there) the afternoon was an entirely different story. The wedding was in two days, and Hermione needed to set up the rituals herself. Largely because the designs and incantations were so finicky and detailed that Narcissa had gotten a headache just from reading them.

Which is how Hermione found herself in the large square space of the Malfoy gardens, carving intricate lines into the stone. Together they would form a Dara knot, centered on where Hermione and Bella would exchange their vows. Hermione groaned at the work ahead of her, but got to it nonetheless. Placing the goblin-forged iron into the carved lines, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Opening her eyes, she began to move her wand back and forth, twisting through the air to form a Celtic knot, over and over again. “Dau enaid eisoes yn un, yma unedig i bawb eu gweld,” she said, feeling the aura of magic gathering around her. “Boeb i bobl, angenfilod, duwaiu, gwirodydd, i gyg uchod ac isod fendithio yr undeb hwn.” The magic gathered around her, growing more and more intense. It seemed to reach into her soul, and it paused there, searching. It found what it sought.

Suddenly the magic exploded from her, racing into the lines of the Dara knot she had crafted, melting the goblin-forged iron as golden light ran throughout. The iron was seared into the sides and bottom of the wall, forming a casing to the stone as the first step was complete.

Hermione, after talking with Bella, had decided to only use a handful of rituals. Most of the rituals discussed in the books were unproven, or seemed to be a part of the three main Celtic rituals. They had decided to stick to the main rituals--one Cornish (as the Blacks were), the others Irish and Welsh (as Hermione was). They added one more, but it was a relatively simple one.

Hermione took out two small vials of blood--hers and Bellas. Calling again upon the powerful magic she had felt, she pour the two vials into the Dara knot.

“Gwaed sydd wedi'i bondio fel eneidiau yw, “ she said, power thrumming through her once more. “Gadewch i'r calonnau fod yn wir fel y mae saethau'n hedfan, mae'r undeb hwn yn cael ei fendithio fel y coedwigoedd.” The golden light surged forth from the Dara knot, streaming towards the small puddle of blood. It swirled in, then surged out, spreading back across the knot, painting the goblin-forged iron a deep red.  _ Time for the final step _ , Hermione thought. Walking the edge of the knot, she placed a drop of dragon’s blood at the each of the four spaces between the quadrants.

“Yn gryf fel dreigiau, gadewch i'r partneriaid hyn fod.” Again, light burst forth from the channels of the Dara knot, spikes piercing the dragon’s blood, then exploding outwards as the light surged back towards the channels. Where Hermione had dropped the blood, red dragons now lay, carved into the stone. The red dragons of Wales.

The second ritual was a bit simpler. It was the Irish one. Around the Dara knot she carved an immense Circle knot, all while chanting “anamacha fite le chéile, cosúil le snáitheanna snaidhm.” She then placed small pieces of gold at each intersection of the two strands, walking around the circle.

“Dhá anamacha atá i ndán dóibh, ar deireadh aontaithe,” she said, wand forming a triskelion in the air. “Go bhféadfaidís a bpósadh a bheannú.” Magic surged forth from her again, pouring into the circle knot as the gold melted, flooding the narrow channels of the knot, making it level once more with the rest of the stone. The gold gleamed even though it was now dark out, powerful magic emanating from each strand.

Exhausted, Hermione made her way into the house. Bella was waiting for her at the doorway. She reached out and caught Hermione as she almost collapsed, her knees suddenly giving out.

“Are you okay love?” Bella asked, worry written across her face. Hermione smiled, and stood up properly.

“I will be,” she said with a smile. “Need to eat though.”

“Good,” Bella said, taking Hermione’s hand and leading her indoors. “Dinner’s almost ready.” Hermione followed her love inside, sitting next to her. Dinner passed in a tired daze for Hermione, simply nodding and giving a one-word answer when Narcissa asked how the rituals were going. After dinner she felt better, but was still exhausted. Bella helped her up the stairs, tucking her into bed with a kiss on her forehead.

“Bella,” she said sleepily, as her fiancée prepared to leave. “I love you.” She saw Bella’s smile, her eyes brimming with tears.

“I love you too, little witch,” Bella replied. “More than I knew I ever could.” Hermione sat up, kissing her and pulling Bella back down into bed. Hermione wrapped her arms tight around Bella, and was soon asleep, her head resting on Bella’s chest.

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Hermione woke early the next morning, her head still on Bella’s chest. She smiled and sat up. She leaned down and pressed a kiss to Bella’s forehead.

“Mrphh,” the love of her life said. “Wha’ time is it?” Hermione glanced at the clock.

“Six-thirty,” she replied. “But I need to finish the rituals today.” Bella groaned at that and rolled over, muttering something about ambitious witches and reasonable wake-up times.

“Do you really need to start  _ now _ ?” Bella asked, having rolled over again.

“Yes love,” Hermione replied gently. “I’m not exactly a master sculptor.” Bella groaned again, but sat up.

“Fine,” she said, moving to get out of bed.

“You don’t have to get up now too,” Hermione said. Bella turned towards her, fixing her with a glare.

“Yes, I do,” she said with a growl. “Because I want to go to bed with you again, and I don’t want to spend three hours staring at the ceiling like I did last night.” Hermione blushed a deep crimson.

“Thank you,” she said softly.

“Besides,” Bella said, getting dressed. “This is weird, powerful, and exhausting magic. You’re going to need aftercare.” Hermione blushed again, even deeper, at Bella’s choice of words. Hermione looked at her love, and tried to speak, but couldn’t quite get the words out. Bella smiled. “Don’t worry love,” she said with a grin. “You’ll get to experience my aftercare in that context too.” As Hermione’s blush deepened further, Bella winked at her, then led them out the door.

The two cuddled throughout breakfast, which they ate in the parlor. They continued to cuddle as Bella read the news and Hermione double-checked the rituals and made sure she had all the needed materials. Pressing a soft kiss to Bella’s cheek, she stood and moved into the garden, levitating huge chunks of tin, copper, gold, and marble behind her.

In the garden, Hermione set herself up at the center of the Dara knot, the magic she had imbued yesterday still burning bright. Grabbing a pedestal, she placed the chunk of tin on it. Carefully, she cast a spell, light shining on her hands as she put her wand away. Moving slowly and very carefully, she began to carve the tin, shaping it. By the end of the first hour, it began to look like a bird. As she continued, carving the individual feathers into its wings, shaping the head with the small protruding feathers, carving the beak into the perfect angle, it became unmistakable. It was a chough, the ancient Cornish emblem.

Four hours later, Hermione moved onto the block of copper, slowly carving away at it. Around noon, Bella showed up with a sandwich.

“Wow,” Bella said, taking in the majesty of the dara and circular knots. “No wonder you were so tired yesterday.” Hermione nodded, but continued to carve to block of copper, creating the rough outline of wings. “I, um--I brought you a sandwich,” Bella said, looking at Hermione. “Look,” she said, her tone suddenly much less gentle. “I love that you care this much about the wedding, and this much about us. I really do. But for Simon’s sake, you need to take care of yourself.” Hermione continued to carve the copper. “Hermione!” Hermione turned towards Bella, eyes blinking as her brain caught up with the conversation.

“I know,” she said softly. “I--I’m not good at that.” Bella moved towards her, wrapping her up in a tight hug.

“Then let me help.” Hermione nodded, tears starting to form in her eyes. Bella wiped them away and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Here,” she said, smiling down at her love. “Eat.” Hermione gratefully took the sandwich and bit into it. Roast beef. Her favorite. She smiled at Bella, knowing her love had made sure it was in the house.

“Thank you,” Hermione said.

“I care about you Hermione. I’m not going anywhere.” Bella pressed another kiss to Hermione’s forehead.

True to her word, Bella didn’t leave the garden when Hermione was done eating. Instead she stayed, working on last-minute adjustments to the table arrangements with Narcissa as Hermione finished carving the copper chough. Tuning the sisters out, Hermione pulled out two vials and four feathers. She placed each of the four feathers on the wings of the choughs, and poured half of each vial onto each of the birds.

“Goos rei bownans, pluvenow rei gallos, hag my rea skians,” Hermione said, power gathering around her. A golden light seemed to around her body as she continued. “Kandas a duwow, kandas a natur, plegya benygons ma demedhyans.” The golden light streamed from Hermione into the statues, setting them alight with a magic blaze. Soon it cooled, leaving them largely the same, but now glimmering with magic and with blood-red beaks.

“Merlin,” Narcissa said, barely louder than a whisper. “What was that?” Hermione, still catching her breath, gestured for Bella to answer.

“The Cornish ritual, I believe,” Bella said. “Hasn’t been done in centuries. People forgot how. But my little witch wouldn’t let something like that stop her.” Bella had stood up and moved towards Hermione. Hugging her tight and with a wide smile, Bella continued. “No,  _ my _ witch is too smart, too brilliant, to let rumors and failures slow her down.” Hermione blushed lightly, smiling up at Bella. It was nice to be praised by someone she loved so much, someone she trusted with her life. She moved onto her toes, kissing Bella gently. Leaning back down, she smiled.

“Thank you,” she said, smile wide as an oak tree. “Now, I still have one more ritual to finish.”

“Of course dear,” Bella said. She gave Hermione another kiss, then moved back to Narcissa and resumed the table discussions. Hermione turned towards the massive block of marble and the smaller one of gold. She had moved to two choughs to opposite ends of the center of the dara knot. Placing the marble on the ground, she cast another spell, that would allow her to manipulate stone. Carefully, she moved her hands, widening the marble, shifting it into a large, flatter surface. She created a mask, carving intricately into the marble as she arched the base, allowing her to grow the mask. She pressed the sides down as she lowered it, fusing it into the stone base of the area. She carved a leafy crown, and then a long beard, studded with leaves, each hair intricately carved as Hermione perfected the mask. It was far too large a mask for any human to wear.

After three hours, Hermione took the small block of gold and held it above the mask. Casting the same spell she had for the choughs, she gently moved the gold, bit by bit, decorating the mask. She created golden eyes, flecked with bits of marble, and traced the leaf veins in gold as well. After another hour, she was done. Leaning over the mask, hands on either cheek, she spoke.

“Dyn Gwyrdd,” she said. “Derwyddon y gorffennol, bendithiwch ni wrth i'n hysbryd a'n calonnau gwblhau eu cydblethu.” Golden light poured out of her as it streamed into the mask, the gold shining bright as the eyes seemed to open, and then close, the lips upturned into a smile. Hermione smiled.  _ I’ve done it _ , she thought happily.  _ Four rituals, three of which are multi-week, and I did it in two days! _ She smiled, and tried to stand. As she did, her eyes rolled back and her knees gave way.

“Hermione!” she heard Bella calling out, rushing to her side as she fell.

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

She woke up a few hours later. It was now fully dark outside. She sat up, looking out the window of her and Bella’s room.  _ How did I get---oh, right _ , she thought as she fell back, her head hitting the pillow.

“So,” a choked voice called from her left. “You’re up.” She turned and saw Bella, sitting on a chair. Her fiancée. She’d been crying, and her eyes were red from it. Hermione moved towards her.

“I’m--”

“Don’t  _ ever _ do that again.” Hermione stopped, frozen. Bella hadn’t yelled. She hadn’t shouted or raged. Her tone was cold and heated all at once, and it brooked no argument.

“I--”

“Do you know how worried I was?” Bella asked, her voice rising as she leaned forward.

“No,” Hermione said meekly.

“You collapsed! Immediately after performing some of the most complex magic the world has ever seen, after claiming you could do it in less than a third of the time it normally takes, after saying you would try to take care of yourself. I--” Bella’s voice cracked. Tears welled into her eyes as she looked at Hermione. “I can’t lose you,” she said, much softer. “I can’t. I couldn’t live with that. I’m happy we’re getting married, and I’m happy that you care about us enough to do all this research, but all of that--it doesn’t really matter to me. What matters is that I get to be by your side. That I get to wake up next to you, that I get to kiss you, that I get to be a part of your life. No magic, no matter how ancient or powerful, can compare to that. So don’t you  _ ever _ ,  _ ever _ , overwork yourself like that again.” Bella was still crying, her tears falling throughout her emotional confession. Hermione had joined her and was now leaning over, reaching out to hold her.

“I’m sorry,” Hermione said as tears streamed down her face. “I’m so sorry. I--I’m really sorry Bella. I--I just--” her voice broke as Bella’s hand touched hers, squeezing it. “I wanted to do something that could make me worthy of you,” Hermione said, her voice quiet and trembling.” Bella stood and moved into bed, lying next to Hermione and pulling her tight, so her head rested against Bella’s chest.

“You are worthy,” Bella said, gently petting Hermione’s hair. “Not only of me, but of so much more.” Exhaling, she kissed Hermione’s forehead, then pulled her up, leaning forward so their foreheads could touch as she stared Hermione in the eyes. “I know that,” she said. “I know it with my soul, my heart. And I will keep saying it and believing it until you do too.” Hermione began to cry again, the words overwhelming her. She’d never had someone say that before, never had someone love her so much she felt completely safe around them. She cried, burying her head into Bella’s chest as they hugged tight, wrapping their arms around each other.

“Thank you,” Hermione said when her tears finally stopped. “I--you have no idea how much that means to me.” Bella smiled at her.

“I think I do,” Bella said. “It meant just as much to me when you showed up outside that muggle house.” Hermione felt her emotions rising up again, and  _ dear God  _ she didn’t want to cry anymore. Instead she moved forward, her mouth meeting Bella’s as the two kissed tenderly. Tomorrow was their wedding, but tonight--tonight it was just them, as they held and kissed each other until they fell asleep.


	34. Wedding Ceremony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Wedding Ceremony!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh! So sorry I haven't posted y'all. Got a bit caught up in thanksgiving. I hope this one makes up for it, lots of good feels fluff

“Fuck.” Bellatrix was deeply confused. Who said that? Why? Rolling onto her side, she saw Hermione, her little witch, face collapsed into a pillow. “Fuck,” her fiancée said again. Bellatrix pulled at Hermione’s shoulder, rolling her closer. Hermione groaned. “Fuck,” she said a third time.

“I mean,” Bellatrix said. “I do want to. But the wedding starts at eleven.” Hermione groaned again.

“Remind me, why did we do a fancy ceremony?”

“Because, little witch,” Bellatrix said, booping Hermione on the nose. “You got bogged down in rituals and let Cissy handle all the other planning.” Hermione groaned again.

“Fine,” she said, pushing herself upright and rolling out of bed. She landed with her feet on the ground, walking over towards the closer. She threw on a bathrobe before wandering out.

“Where are you going?” Hermione turned around with a smirk playing on her face.

“It’s bad luck to see a bride in her wedding dress before you’re married,” Hermione said. With a wink, she closed the door and left. Bellatrix groaned, her head flopping against the pillow. The bed was  _ so _ comfortable. Could she stay there? No. She didn’t want to disappoint her Hermione.

Sitting up, Bellatrix pushed herself off the bed and moved towards the closet.

“Saphie?” she asked into the air. There was a *pop* and Saphie appeared next to her, wearing a baking apron.

“Yes Miss Black?” Saphie asked.

“Is there anyone free who can help me get dressed?” Saphie smiled and snapped her fingers. Her apron quickly turned into a dress, and the two were soon joined by three more House Elves.

“Here, Miss Black!” one of them shouted, shoving a small plate towards her. “You need to eat some breakfast first.”

“Thanks,” Bellatrix said, quickly biting down on the toast and marmalade. She watched as the House Elves moved frantically, organizing and reorganizing her entire closet. Bellatrix ate the sausage next, then vanished the plate, utensils, and the grease. She stood up, but Saphie pushed her back down.

“What?”

“Miss Black must stay put!” Saphie exclaimed. “We will dress you for the wedding. Miss MacEcrae told us to keep you in this room.”

“Hermione,” Bellatrix growled, and tried to stand again. Once more she was pushed down. She glared at Saphie. “How are you going to dress me if I can’t get up? And I need a shower.” Saphie looked at her, then nodded.

“Shower then. Go.” Bellatrix sighed and moved into the bathroom, resigning herself to having her room redone by House Elves.

The shower was warm and relaxing, exactly what Bellatrix needed. Something to keep her from thinking while she got ready. Too much thought and she’d start to panic. Which would be fair. She hadn’t known Hermione for long, only a few months. And they were getting married. With several complex ceremonies. Some of which could lead to death, especially if they were wrong about-- _ stop it! _ Bellatrix exclaimed in her head. She leaned against the shower wall, breathing.  _ Need to stay present. It’s Hermione. She’s  _ my  _ little witch. It’ll be perfect. _ With a deep breath, Bellatrix went back to showering. Scrubbing hard, she let the soap and hot water sear the insecurities from her. She dried off quickly, using a quick spell to dry her hair, and walked back into her room.

“What in Merlin’s baggy underwear happened?” Bellatrix exclaimed upon re-entering her bedroom. The bed was covered in palettes and dresses, the walls had racks and racks of decorative black dresses, and house elves were everywhere. She couldn’t even see her knives anymore!

“Ah, Miss Bella!” Saphie exclaimed. “Good, we’re ready for you! Try on this dress!” Bellatrix looked at the dress. It had no train, but was covered in patterned lace. Ignoring Saphie’s instructions, she moved towards the dresses, looking at each of them. None truly struck her fancy, until the forty-third (out of seventy-eight). It was a black corseted dress, just like her normal ones, though far fancier. The bust was covered with green and silver lace, patterned to form dara knots across her breasts. The trim was silver, and followed down the sides of the corset until hitting the folds of the skirt. Bellatrix smiled.

“Perfect,” she said. Unlacing it took some time. The ties were made of silver lace, and carried from the small of her back to within four inches of her neck. Unlike her normal dresses, this one was sleeveless, instead letting some of the black fabric from the top of the corset hang across her upper arms. It took even longer to get the dress on, and that was with the house elves helping her. Once the dress was on (along with her garter and stockings) Bellatrix lost almost any say in the matter. The house elves pushed her into a chair and ran around, bringing Saphie different makeup items. Bellatrix began to regret deciding to wear makeup for this occasion. Still, she complied with every order Saphie gave her.

After the makeup came her hair. It was fully dry, thanks to her spell, and that tended to make it more than a little crazy. The house elves, using far, far too much time and effort by her lights, were able to rectify this. Her hair came down in ringlets, one dark set on each side. The rest were pulled back into a five-strand braid, held together with a silver ring, engraved with a willow tree in celtic form. At last Bellatrix was ready, as the guests began to their seats. She looked at the time. 11:02. Perfect. Bellatrix made her way down the stairs, into the parlor. She looked at where she and Hermione had gotten engaged, only four months ago.  _ Dear gods, _ she thought.  _ We only met in person  _ four  _ months ago. I didn’t know she existed less than a year ago.  _ Bellatrix stopped her runaway thoughts, breathing in and out. She looked down at the ring on her left hand. The dragon soaring above the three dots. She smiled. They may only have met four months ago, but soulmates are soulmates.

“Ready?” Cissy asked, sneaking up behind her. Bellatrix bit back a yelp and glared at her younger sister.

“Yes.”

“Good. Let’s not keep people waiting.” Bellatrix nodded, and followed Cissy through the garden door, towards the stone courtyard where the wedding was being held. The seats and tables were all at the edge of the courtyard. They didn’t want anyone else getting hurt if the rituals went wrong, and even if done correctly a third party could be gravely injured. As they neared the courtyard, Bellatrix let her sister take her arm. Taking a deep breath in and out, she moved forward, walking towards the center of Hermione’s great dara knot, towards the ghost of the druid who proclaimed their prophecy, and towards her own wedding.

There were gasps as she entered the courtyard. She should have expected that. No one was used to seeing the Great and Intimidating Bellatrix Black look pretty. Look anything other than crazy. She forced herself not to look at the crowds, instead walking towards the ghost officiant. When she reached the center, Narcissa turned around, leaving her there. Bellatrix turned as well, standing in place. Her thoughts faded away, the hum of the ritual magic and anticipation of her wedding short-circuiting her brain. Hermione had taught her that phrase, on Christmas, when she was going over how she’d beaten Dumbledore. Bellatrix smiled, the mere thought of Hermione making her happy.

Bellatrix was irritated when the gasps of the crowd drew her from her thoughts of Hermione. That irritation faded as soon as she saw what they had gasped at. In front of her, walking towards her, arm carried by her sister, was Hermione. Her little witch. She wore a white dress, blue lace and trim decorating the bust and back, her veil floating in the wind. Like Bellatrix, she had no train. Bellatrix could see her smile from beneath the veil, its radiance lighting her world.

“Hi,” Hermione said as Cissy left, turning back and leaving the ritual zone.

“Hey,” Bellatrix replied, staring at her little witch. Her soon-to-be wife. “Let’s get this done. I have  _ quite _ an evening and night planned for you.” Bellatrix smiled as Hermione blushed, the same dark crimson she always turned. A cough from the ghost caught their attention, and the two turned towards him.

“We have gathered here,” the deceased druid began. “To celebrate life, love, and eternal connections. To forge bonds that bind those three to the soul, to permanently forge these two witches into one couple. Who has come here, that wishes to forge these bonds?”

“Bellatrix Black,” Bellatrix said, voice clogged. She cleared it before continuing. “Daughter of Cygnus and Druella of the Noble House of Black and the Cornish Druids.”

“Hermione MacEcrae,” Hermione added, her voice ringing loud and clear across the courtyard. “Daughter of Seamus of House MacEcrae and the Irish Druids, and of Guinevere of House Cunedda and the Welsh Druids. Last Descendant of Morgana Le Fey and of Niall Noígíallach.” Whispers echoed across the courtyard. The Blacks had never advertised their Cornish ancestry, or their past druidism. Hermione’s declaration regarding Morgana Le Fey was even more explosive.

“Do you, Bellatrix of the House of Black, take Hermione of the Houses MacEcrae and Cunedda, to be your wife?” Bellatrix bit her lip, forcing back tears as she looked at Hermione.

“I do.”

“Do you, Hermione of the Houses MacEcrae and Cunedda, take Bellatrix of the House of Black, to be your wife.”

“I do,” Hermione replied breathily. Her eyes pierced through the veil, staring into Bellatrix’s. Light began to stream from the Green Man that Hermione had made.

“An bhfuil tú ag iarraidh é a iompar thar chnoc agus ar muir, is cuma cad a thagann?” the druid asked.

“Dearbhaím seo,” the brides replied. The circle knot, carved to encompass the dara knot, filled with light as the guests oohed and ahed.

“Ydych chi'n rhegi i amddiffyn eich gwraig, waeth beth yw'r gelynion rydych chi'n eu cyfarfod?”

“Rwy’n addo hyn.” The dara knot now filled with light, filling the courtyard with light as the guests struggled to see the brides.

“Lorogyon sawya i gwreg, hogen perylo i bewnans?”

“An my lorogya.” The two choughs, previously carvings made of metal, lifeless, took flight and cawed as they rose into the sky amidst the gasps of the guests.

“I now pronounce you wed!” the druid declared. The light intensified, then floated up, out of the sacred carvings. It gathered, streaming towards the center, where Hermione and Bellatrix stood. The birds turned from metal to light, and flew down as the light encircled the brides. Cissy no doubt was pacing, worried that Hermione’s youth and Bellatrix’s cavalier attitude had gotten them killed. Hermione and Bellatrix stared at each other, holding hands. Slowly, Bellatrix took out the silver and emerald wedding ring she had made for Hermione. One ring marked her as a Black, the other marked her as Slytherin. Both marked her little witch as hers. She slid the ring onto Hermione’s index finger as tears slowly fell from both their eyes. Hermione took out another ring, a shimmering platinum, made special for the occasion. Two black diamonds stood out from the ring, soaking Bellatrix in just as Hermione’s own brown eyes did. These rings too marked her as Hermione’s, one for the house, one for her. The ring slid neatly onto Bellatrix’s finger.

Bellatrix slowly lifted the veil from Hermione, as the little witch did the same for her. They both came forward, meeting in the middle as they kissed. The light burst briefly outwards, then poured inwards, flying into Hermione and Bellatrix’s bodies. Bellatrix felt her mind going numb, her body absorbing power, so much power, gathered from years, decades, centuries, even millennia of love. She and Hermione seemed to float above the ground, holding onto each other. Then, suddenly, the light ended. She stood, in the courtyard, wearing two rings, two bands that marked her as Hermione’s. She stood, in the courtyard, next to her wife.


	35. The Afterparty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our favorite newlyweds greet their guests and get some alone time

“To the brides!” Hermione smiled at Bella, her wife. Her _wife_! God, that was exciting. She felt like she’d wake up any moment, there was no way it was possible to be this happy in real life.

“Lucias is really drunk,” Hermione whispered as the wizard in question stumbled away from the podium.

“How’d you figure that out?” Bella asked with an innocent look. Hermione raised an eyebrow.

“He just complimented _us_ , darling.” Bella laughed and Hermione looked at her, content to bask in the sound of her laughter forever. She sighed contentedly, sipping at her champagne.

“My love,” Hermione said as the guests mingled. “Shall we?” Bella smiled and took Hermione’s hand, leading the two of them back to the center of the courtyard, where the ceremony had occurred. A string quartet began to play at her signal, and every eye in the room turned towards the two brides. They never noticed the eyes, filled as they were with each other. Bella led Hermione through a tango, twirling her across the room, sliding across the courtyard as their bodies intertwined, drawing cheers from the crowd that were never heard. Everything faded for the two of them, moving to the sound of the music and the forms of their bodies. The tantalizing sound and seductive steps were far from a traditional pure-blood wedding, but neither cared. Two women marrying was far from a traditional pure-blood wedding.

The dance ended with a spin that led Hermione away, then twirled her back into a deep dip. Bella smiled, and Hermione leaned up, their lips meeting as the final notes were struck.

The next song began, and the brides smiled, gesturing for their guests to join as Hermione and Bella locked their elbows. It was a lively Irish jig, and the two danced across the room, switching partners as they spun, but always finding each other again. The next dance was a Welsh folk song, then a Cornish one. These were followed by a delicate waltz before the band moved onto some of their original pieces. Hermione led Bella from the dance floor, back to the ring of seats.

“You’re beautiful when you’re flushed,” Bella said, looking at Hermione’s pink cheeks as her little witch took a few deep breaths.

“You’re always beautiful,” Hermione responded with a smirk, drawing Bella in for a kiss. “Now come on, we have to say hello to everyone!” Bella laughed, Hermione’s happiness sailing right past her trepidations about greeting some of their guests.

“Ah, Alecto, Amycus,” Bella said with a false smile as they reached the first of their guests. “Always nice to see you.”

“Hestia, Flora,” Hermione said with her own smile. “Thank you both for coming, it means the world.”

“It _is_ the social event of the year,” Alecto Carrow said. “Regardless--” Hermione and Bella turned towards Flora, whose wand had suddenly leapt into her hand.

“Thank you, dear,” Bella said. “Now tell me, you _are_ seventeen, right?”

“Yes, Madame Black,” Flora said. Bellatrix’s smile turned vicious, prompting Hermione to gently elbow her beautiful wife.

“It was a beautiful ceremony,” Hestia added. “Thank you for inviting us.”

“Of course,” Hermione said with a smile, genuine this time. “It was our pleasure.”

“And will be later, I imagine,” a voice came from behind them.

“Ah, hello Yaxley,” Bella said. “Already running out of insults? I knew you were boring, but I’d forgotten how dumb you were. Excuse us,” she finished, leading Hermione from the stunned Death Eater, the two of them giggling.

“Hermione!” a voice called out, and both brides turned. There stood a man in bright yellow robes, with a large bronze pendant.

“What’s that on his chest?” Hermione asked.

“Symbol of the Three Brothers. Kind of a cross between a childhood story and a conspiracy theory.”

“Ah,” Hermione said. “Wizarding mythology. Fun. Still Luna and Ginny are there, along with your sister and niece.”

“True,” Bella sighed as they began to walk over. “Let’s hope he doesn’t talk too much.”

“Hermione!” Ginny yelled as the two grew neared, rushing over and hugging her friend. “God, that was a _gorgeous_  ceremony! Least I know what you were doing with all those damn celtic books now.” Hermione smiled and watched as Bella walked towards her sister, the two of them starting to cry as they moved to hug each other.

“”Mione?” Ginny asked. “Why are you crying?” Hermione too a step back, wiping the tears from her eyes.

“I’m happy,” Hermione said. “Happier than I’ve ever been.”

“Congrats, ‘Mione!” another voice called. “Good ta see you again!” Hermione turned and hugged the pink-haired witch.

“Good to see you too Tonks, though its been less than a week.”

“Longer for you, I’d imagine,” Luna added before making her own way in to embrace her. “Well done, the light glows throughout, you need only wait for it to fill you.” Hermione blushed deeply as the others looked at Luna, confused. Hermione snuck a quick look at Bella, who had briefly frozen upon hearing that.

“Thank you, Luna,” Hermione said quietly.

“Oh, oh dear,” Luna said. “Sorry, didn’t know it was a secret.”

“What’s a secret?” Ginny asked.

“Wouldn’t be a secret if we told you, now would it?” Bella said, stepping over to greet them. “My dear wife, I’d love for you to meet my sister, Andromeda.”

“It’s a pleasure,” Hermione said, embracing the witch. “Anyone who can put up with Tonks for seventeen years has my everlasting respect.”

“Oi!” Tonks said loudly. “I’m not _that_ bad.”

“No,” her mother said. “But you were.” Hermione laughed and embraced Tonk’s mother. Andromeda pulled back, hands on Hermione’s forearms, looking into her eyes.

“It’s good to have a new sister,” Andromeda said after a pause. “Even if you are younger than my daughter.”  Hermione blushed a deep scarlet and even Bella turned a light crimson.

“Hey, ‘Mione,” Tonks said, interrupting. “Not that it’s not great to have a new aunt--”

“If you call me that,” Hermione began threateningly. Tonks simply smirked before continuing.

“What was the big rush?” Hermione paled, looking up at Bella who did the same. Everyone else was staring at them. It was clearly a wide-spread question.

“We are at war,” Bella noted dourly.

“And marriage gives me certain safties,” Hermione added. “The ministry can’t force me to give away her location. Dumbledore no longer has authority over me. I do, as an adult. Bella does, as my wife and head of the Ancient and what is it, babe?” she asked, turning towards Bella who let out a laugh before picking up where she left off.

“The Noble and Most Ancient of Black,” she said, pressing a kiss to the top of Hermione’s head. “Lords of Wizarding London, Holder of the Keys, and a half-dozen titles Auntie Wal made up.”

“She added one each for each kid,” Andromeda said. “And whenever someone got married. And when I ran away.”

“And got married,” Bella pointed out. Andromeda nodded. “We should go, darling,” Bella continued. “People to see, words to say.”

“Yes, of course,” Hermione said, rearranging her pure-blood mask. “Tonks, Ginny, Luna, I will see you at school. Luna, tell _no one_.” With that the two Madames Black strode towards a cluster of rich englishmen.

 

The rest of the celebrations went by in a blur. Hermione could have sword she’d shaken two hundred hands and hand her own kissed by near a hundred mouths. Representatives from all the pureblood families--Sacred Twenty-Eight families of England, the Royal Eighteen of France, the Noble Fifteen of Ireland, the Holy Twenty of Scotland, and the Pure Twelve of Wales--had arrived, and had to be greeted with the utmost care and respect. Powerful and wealthy as they might be, the union of Black, Cunneda, and MacEcrae paled in comparison to the combined might of these other families. They had to show that Hermione, despite her cursed upbringing, was just as much a pure-blood as they were.

It was exhausting, but worthwhile. Fortunately, they didn’t have to spend too much time with each family. Most seemed to be on their last legs, especially in Wales, Ireland, and Scotland, where the Ministry had been cracking down on separatist and autonomist sentiments.

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

It wasn’t until two that the last of their guests left. Two, in the morning. Their wedding had to take place during the late morning for the rituals, but no pure-blood wedding could get away without dinner and a party long into the night.

As the last guest, some drunken relative of Evan Rosier, was shown off by Narcissa, Hermione slumped into her wife.

“Fuck,” Hermione said. “That was _exhausting_.”

“Aw,” Bella replied, holding her close. “And I had such fun after-party activities for us. Oh well,” she said with a shrug and a hidden smirk. “If you’re too tired we can just--” She was cut off as Hermione’s lips claimed hers, tongues entangling as she stumbled backwards, leading them up to her--their--room. When they neared the stairs, she hoisted Hermione up, who complied happily, wrapping her legs around Bella’s waist and her arms around her neck. Hermione’s voice turned to whimpers as Bella bit up and down her neck as they walked ever closer to their bedroom.

The moment the wooden door was closed, Bella slammed Hermione into the door, biting harshly on her neck as Hermione mewled, then sucking as much of it into her mouth as she could. She pulled back, taking a breath, staring into Hermione’s eyes.

“Do--”

“Yes,” Hermione said, her voice heavy with lust. “God yes Bella. Take me, I am yours.” She sighed as Bella returned in force, leaving a trail of hickies down her neck. “Only yours,” she whispered as Bella moved to her collar bone. When her wife--God, her wife, it felt so good to say--bit her shoulder, Hermione’s back arched of its own accord. She began pulling at her laces.

“Bella,” she said between moans. “Please, God please, take me. Take me--” Hermione was cut off by her own squeak as Bella pivoted, throwing her wife onto their bed, then leaping on top her. She claimed Hermione’s lips with a burning passion as her fingers deftly untied the knots of Hermione’s dress. She felt Hermione’s fingers move to do the same as her wife whined below her, desperate, needy. That knowledge alone sent shivers down her spine; the sounds only heightened the pleasure.

Hermione let out a high-pitched whine as Bella’s hand traced over her folds, her hips bucking towards the hand. Smirking at her wife, Bella ripped the panties away. The bra was next, and soon Hermione’s breasts were surrounded by Bella’s touch, her mouth covering the tops in hickies as her hands played with the nipples. Hermione moaned beneath her wife, her hands grabbing one of Bella’s, pulling it down, lower, where she needed it. She felt her body arch then fall when one of Bella’s fingers teased her entrance. She heard a noise, so guttural it took a moment to realise she’d made it.

“Bella,” Hermione whined again. “I need y--oou. . . God Bell-ah!” Bellatrix smirked at her wife’s body, already trembling from her ministrations. Truth be told, she needed her wife as well. The wedding, the dress, the ceremony, all of them had done nothing but build up her passions. But for now, she would enjoy the power she held over her little witch. Her fingers moved quickly, thumb teasing Hermione’s clit. Her mouth lowered again, kissing down Hermione’s neck, taking a viscous bite at the hollow. She pulled back, watching the mark grow when Hermione arched her back again, the skin stretching, revealing the deep indents. She lowered her mouth again, sucking the hollow of Hermione’s throat into her mouth, her thumb pressing harder into Hermione’s clit, her fingers moving faster, harder as Hermione worked herself into a lather. She moaned, whined, bucked, and arched as Bellatrix took her. The golden light of their wedding reappeared, but it was different. A haze of light, with a faint earthy scent, surrounded them as Hermione’s hand remembered her love, moving under Bella, surprising the older witch when two fingers entered her own eager folds.

Bellatrix moved her hips, grinding her clit on Hermione’s palm as she rode her little witch’s fingers, moaning into Hermione’s neck when a third finger entered her. Hermione whimpered as Bella’s hand sped up once again, her left moving to focus on her clit as her right pounded in and out. Bella’s fingers twisted, moving along a different angle, entering Hermione deeper, hitting the perfect spot as she moved. Hermione let out a low moan that soon turned to high-pitched whimpers and quick breaths as she neared her peak, speeding up her own hand to bring Bella along with her. She cried out Bella’s name as she came, her body arching, toes and fingers curling as she rode out the waves of passion.

It was Hermione’s cry, accompanied by her curling fingers, that set off Bellatrix’s own orgasm. She bit down on Hermione’s neck, her hips slowing as she rode out the last of her peak. Exhausted, she collapsed onto her wife--dear Merlin, her wife!--before rolling off her. She bit back a whimper at the loss of Hermione’s fingers, and her heartstrings tugged as Hermione’s whimper made it past her lips when Bella’s fingers slid out of her. The two witches lay next to each other, panting. Hermione moved first, rolling onto her side.

“That,” she said, taking a deep breath and letting it go in a burst of air. “Was far more exhausting than normal.” Bella let out a puff of her own air, staring up at the ceiling.

“That it was,” she said, a chuckle leaving her lips. Hermione rolled closer, her arm falling over Bella’s body. They both sighed at the domesticity.

“We’re married,” Hermione said, her voice awed.

“We are,” Bella said, happier than she’d ever been.


	36. The Return

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione takes the train ride back with Luna and Ginny, then endures yet another Dumbledore welcoming speech

The newlyweds spent the next day in bed, food delivered by house elves as they recovered between rounds. They didn’t make even a momentary appearance at the Easter celebrations. Not that Narcissa could blame them. The were a newly-wed, soul-mated lesbian couple whose ceremony was a magical and druidic. Considering what Christianty had to say about the last three, it was unlikely they would have participated, even if their wedding had not been the previous day.

The following day they embarked on a tour of Ireland, visiting and christening each of Hermione’s houses. Hermione’s favorite was the house on the Skellig Islands, while Bella’s was the cottage overlooking the Cliffs of Moher. Though that may have been because she’d convinced Hermione to have sex under the stars the night they stayed there.

All too soon it was time to return to Hogwarts. Hermione reluctantly parted from her wife, after several promises they would see each other again and repeated kissing. They had tried to absorb as much of each other as possible over the past week, but it was still painful. Apparating from Malfoy Manor felt like tearing her soul in two. Stretching it like a rubberband. She hoped they’d snap back rather than break.

“Take care of each other, okay?” Narcissa said as Hermione and Draco prepared to board the train. Both students nodded, Hermione visibly tense. She was looking around constantly, evaluating everyone as a potential threat, everything as a potential weapon.

“Hermione,” Draco whispered as they boarded. “Relax. Or at least pretend to. You look like a moke ready for skinning.” Hermione nodded curtly, but remained just as tense. She did, however, change her methods. She appeared to be calmly observing now, rather than looking around, paranoid. She hoped so, at least.

“You going to be okay?” he asked. Hermione nodded.

“I’ll be fine,” she said, looking over his shoulder. “I already found Ginny and Luna.”

“Why wo--” Hermione glared at him.

“They are my friends,” she said bitingly. “They are the  _ only  _ people who cared for me both when I was a mudblood and now that I’m Bellatrix Black’s pureblood wife. The rest of the Gryffindors I knew abandoned me, alongside most of the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws. My new friends, barring a few, are Slytherins who not  _ one year ago _ cursed me for being born.” Draco swallowed hard, looking into Hermione’s eyes. He saw fire, the same as he saw in his aunt when she left for a battle. His legs began to tremble.

“I moved on,” she said quietly, looking back at him, her fire doused by a moment of sadness. “You were the only Slytherin who got closer for something other than siphoning political favor.” Draco nodded, his throat tight. So much for loyal Gryffindors. Or for Slytherins protecting their own.

“For what it’s worth,” he said. “I am sorry. Not,” he interjected as she was about to speak. “Just because you’re a pure-blood after all, or married to my aunt, or brilliant and powerful. What I did was wrong, and it shouldn’t have taken something this big to make me see that.” Her eyes misting over, Hermione pulled Draco in for a tight hug. Unable to speak, she simply nodded her appreciation and walked down the train’s corridor before sliding into Luna and Ginny’s compartment.

“Hermione!” Luna called loudly, smiling. Hermione smiled back and shut the compartment door. “You’re positively glowing. How l--” Hermione, who had been lifting up her back to place it on the rack, suddenly paled and turned. The bag, forgotten, dropped to the floor.

“Luna!” she shouted in a whisper. “What did I say about not telling anyone?” Luna blushed slightly.

“Sorry,” she said. “I just don’t see why it has to be a secret. Why don’t you--”

“We’re going to Hogwarts,” Hermione said in a hiss, her eyes wide and scanning the area. She paused, turning towards the door, setting a series of locking and silencing charms, before repeating the silencing charms on the air vents and the windows.

“‘Mione?” Ginny asked as Hermione cast a false reflection spell on the glass doors and windows. “What are you doing?”

“Necessary precautions,” she replied, turning back to her friends. Both of them were scared. “Luna,” she said again. “We’re heading to Hogwarts. Dumbledore’s domain. As headmaster, he controls the house elves. Do you know how easy it would be, to slip something into a salad or a mug?” Tears were falling down her cheeks, her jaws trembling in fear and anger. “I--I can’t take any chances,” she said quietly. “Luna, give me your hand.” Luna, paler than normal, held out her hand. Hermione gripped it with her right.

“Ginny,” Hermione said. “Hold out your wand.” Ginny’s eyes widened at the position. “Please,” Hermione said, her voice cracking. “I--I can’t leave any chance.”

“Hermione,” Ginny said cautiously. “What is this?” Hermione just shook her head.

“I trust you with my life, Ginny,” Hermione said. “But not this. I can’t. You--you’ll understand, eventually.” Extremely confused, Ginny looked at Luna, who nodded. With a sigh the redhead pulled out her wand and gave the incantation.

“Luna,” Hermione said. “Will you refrain from speaking of this secret until it has been revealed to the world?”

“I will,” Luna said softly. A red band flickered from Ginny’s wand, looping around Luna and Hermione’s arms, twisting and then gently burning them before disappearing. Hermione sighed and let go of Luna’s wrist.

“Thank you,” she said quietly to her two friends before grabbing her wand. Quickly and wordlessly, she dispelled the myriad spells she’d lain down. She saw Luna, still shaken from what just happened, cuddling into Ginny, who was petting her girlfriend gently, throwing concerned glances Hermione’s way every so often. The rest of the train ride, as well as the carriage ride to the castle, was in silence. Hermione bit her lip. She hoped she hadn’t ruined anything. Even if she had, she didn’t regret it. It was necessary, regretful as that may be, to bind the one person who knew to secrecy.

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The welcome back feast was as anticipated: decent food and Dumbledore ranting about the Dark Lord. In all fairness, most of what he was saying was true. He was back, he was powerful, they were (mostly) safe in Hogwarts and less so off-campus, and he wasn’t a fan of muggle-borns, to put it lightly. The part about torture seemed excessive. Really? “The Cruciatus Curse is a well-known favorite of many Death Eaters. Avoid them at all costs, allow our Aurors to handle them, no matter how experienced you may think yourself.” That part was fair. Hermione’s power had grown massively, but she was nowhere near the duelist that Bella was. Her wife had power, now even greater, finesse, agility, smarts, looks. . .

It took a pinch from Draco to keep Hermione from fading off into a daydream. She glared at him, but bowed her head to concede the point.

She would never concede a point to Dumbledore. He was ruthless, cutthroat, and no better than those he fought. He may have wanted a better world once, but he’d sacrificed it--just like her and everyone else--for this “Greater Good.” Fucking Grindiwaldist. She’d read about his influence on the first great dark wizard of the 20th century in some books at Malfoy Manor. Most of the pure-blood supremacy intellectual legitimizers considered him the greatest loss of the 20th century. A handful speculated he was destroying both extremist supremacy branches and co-opting the pro-muggleborn side so as to create a stable society with clear strata. Seeing as how he hadn’t so much as lifted a finger as she and others were called “mudblood” and a handful of younger students (mostly hufflepuffs) were attacked, she was inclined to at least consider that theory.

Good thing he wouldn’t live out the year.

Hermione checked her mind quickly, making sure she had her Occlumency shields up. She had, and breathed a sigh of relief. Someone hearing that thought or seeing a picture of Dumbledore’s corpse in her head would immediately cause problems for her. Problems she certainly didn’t need, not with three Order-leaning friends. None of them really like the old bastard, but she doubted any were willing to kill him. She hoped it didn’t create too much of a wedge when it happened. Still, she would go through with it regardless. She had to avenge her parents and protect her family, no matter who or what stood in her way.


	37. The Cat and the Letter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione fails a detention and is granted a look at a rather interesting letter

After the first night, the reality of being parted from Bella for so long truly sank in. Hermione cried when she woke up on the 8th of April. The next two days she did little more than necessary classwork and eating.

On the 11th she still felt the pain, but shoved it away. It hurt to be so far from Bella, a tugging on her soul. She could feel the tendrils of her heart fraying every day. But she had to be here, for now at least. Hopefully she could spend more time with Bella next year. Making it all the worse was that she’d alienated Ginny and Luna. She hadn’t sought them out, but neither had they her. They would understand in time. Surely. They had to. Yet her brain kept going back to her worst fears, images of Bella yelling at her, of Ginny and Luna storming away, of Him grabbing her and no one doing a thing. 

In need of a distractions, Hermione dove into advanced spell research. She used books from her parent’s Dublin mansion. The spells within were almost all lengthy rituals, and most of them required multiple people. They were the only books so advanced that she dared read, however. They were written in Welsh and Irish Gaelic, which no one else at the school spoke or read, though McGonagall knew Scottish Gaelic. She hope she wouldn’t recognize any of the words in  _ Draíocht na Bhforaoisí,  _ or  _ Magic of the Forests _ . If she wasn’t so obviously tailed, she might have risked a trip to the Forbidden Forest to talk to the Centaurs. She knew they closely guarded their secrets, but so had the druids. Perhaps a trade could be arranged?

Or perhaps it was impossible. Not that it mattered, an auror would stop her well before she could reach the forest, and no doubt she’d be blamed and punished. She really couldn’t afford much more of that. She was already getting detention at least once a week from McGonagall. When she asked what it was for, the response was usually, “Do I need to add another hour for attitude?” Either that or some horse shit about being disruptive. Hermione’s quill scratchings were no louder than those of her neighbors. She talked little, said less, and mostly hid in the class. She’d gotten further than the Hogwarts curriculum would take her already, it wasn’t like she had much to gain from participating.

Despite being by far the quietest person in class, she was always given the most detentions, however. Oftentimes with a Gryffindor, or some first year who didn’t know the difference between a wand and a twig. She tried her best to help them, but they were often indoctrinated Gryffindors and would rather spite the wife of Bellatrix Black than learn something. Gods forbid her advice be listened to.

Today the Gryffindor was being particularly annoying. She was here for one of the unlabeled detentions while the second-year was either there to torture her (as she was coming to suspect) or because he had miscast a transfiguration spell and sent porcupine quills flying across the room.

“Okay, take a deep breath,” Hermione said, this part of the instruction more for her than the second-year. “Now, say the word, without any magic behind it.”

“Histrivors,” the second-year muttered.

“Okay, did you hear that?”

“Not over your instructions, Death Eater.” Hermione bit back a growl, schooling her features into a mask.

“You said histrivors instead of histrifors. All it means is you need to practice annunciation. There’s a few things you can do to help that. The easiest is tongue twisters.”

“Tongue twisters?!” the second-year yelled. “You’re not going to twist my tongue, demon-whore!”  _ How does he even know that word? _ Hermione thought. Sighing internally, she replied calmly.

“It’s not a spell, nor torture. It is simply a phrase that is difficult to say, but when practiced helps your speech. One that would help you is;

‘ _ A flea and a fly flew up in a flue. _

_ Said the flea, ‘let us fly!’ _

_ Said the fly, ‘let us flee!’ _

_ So the flew through a flaw in the flue.’  _ Can you try that?”

The second-year nodded, seemingly scared enough of some tongue-twisting torture to stop insulting her and pay attention. Hermione bit her tongue to keep emotion from showing through as the boy stumbled over the words again and again while she desperately shoved away memories of trading tongue-twisters with her mother. Her wonderful, loving, adoptive mother.  _ Adoptive _ , her mind repeated. Images of The Night flew through her brain, only now Dumbledore was in the background, crescent moon spectacles far down on his nose as he egged her fath--her abuser--on.

“Madame Black!” a voice called out and Hermione opened her eyes, not realizing she’d closed them in the first place. She saw Professor McGonagall looking up at her with shock more than anger, the second-year watching on, terrified. Wait, McGonagall was looking  _ up _ at her? Hermione looked around and noticed she was floating. Along with McGonagall’s desk. Her eyes widening, she started to panic and noticed everything stop, then fall. She closed her eyes again, focusing on stopping the fall, expecting to meet the ground with a hard landing.

She didn’t. There was silence. Opening her eyes, Hermione saw that the whole room, minus McGonagall and the student, was a foot off the ground. Taking a deep breath, Hermione slowly lowered everything back towards the ground. The desk landed with a gentle thunk.

“Madame Black,” McGonagall said bitingly. “I believe you were supposed to be tutoring a student, not experimenting with my classroom.”

“I was tutoring him,” Hermione said. She knew challenging McGonagall was likely a mistake, but she’d started on this path. Quickly summoning a porcupine, she turned towards the second year.

“Go on,” she said. He looked at her, eyes wide, but nodded. His grip on his wand was choked up, but he moved his arm the right way and with a flick of his wrist whispered, “ _ Hystifors. _ ”

The result wasn’t perfect, but it was significantly better. There were only a few quills in the pincushion.

“Very well, Miss Granger,” McGonagall said, remembering that she was supposed to take every opportunity to insult Hermione. “You may leave.” Hermione flashed a smile and swept out of the room with a grace that just a year ago would have astonished those who knew her. Now, it was likely taken by Professors McGonagall and Dumbledore as a sign she was fully committed to Bella--as if their complex, ritualistic marriage and faster-than-light engagement hadn’t been signs enough.

Hermione refused to let her shoulders droop or chin drop until she was well within her safe zone. Namely, the Room of Requirement. She came here more often now, seeking a way to get spellbooks or a room that she could destroy. This time it refused to open. It was in use. Thinking of Draco and pacing thrice more, Hermione opened the door and strode in.

Draco was sitting on the ground, staring at his hands. His wand was nowhere nearby, and splintered wood seemed to surround him.

“Draco?” she asked, calling out. She carefully walked towards him, surprised to see red eyes and tear-stained cheeks when he turned towards her. “What is it?” she asked gently, sitting down across from him. There were several indents in the walls of the room, likely from errant spells.

In response, Draco simply cried, and Hermione reached out instinctively, pulling him close to her, letting his tears fall on her robes.

“I--” he began, taking a deep breath, pulling back to look at her with red eyes. “I’m gay, Hermione,” he said. It was afar cry from his normal voice in public, slimy and privileged. Or even his family voice, loud and privileged. It was raw, soft, and vulnerable.

“What’s the problem with that?” Hermione asked. “Bella and I married.” Draco snorted, lifting a hand to wipe away an errant tear.

“You can still have kids,” he replied.

“So can you. Adoption or surrogacy.” Draco shook his head sadly.

“It--most of the pure-blood world didn’t approve of your wedding,” he said. “But since you’re both super rich and Aunt Bella’s close to the Dark Lord they couldn’t say anything. But I--we--the Malfoys aren’t that rich.” He rolled his eyes when Hermione scoffed. “Yes, we’re excessively rich, but not like the Blacks or the Notts. People are afraid to talk of them. We’re already being mocked since my dad lost a battle to a group of teenagers.”

“I’d like to see some of my wedding guests fight those teenagers,” Hermione grumbled. Draco chuckled and cracked a smile, a genuine smile. That alone made Hermione feel like there was progress being made.

“So long as you’re not in that group, I think we’ll all be hoping for injuries,” he said. Hermione laughed at his light tone, but cut her mirth short, her eyes falling on the arrogant boy who had somehow become a close friend. And her nephew. That last part she didn’t like to dwell on.

“What brought this up?”she asked. Draco sighed, and took out a small piece of parchment, crumbled and crinkled. He handed it to Hermione without saying anything. She looked at him, then began to read the letter.

 

_ My son, _

 

_ We must reaffirm our house standing immediately. Between the mockery of a wedding between two uncouth, licentious whores at our house and my own rejection by the Dark Lord our position has become rather precarious. To rectify this, you will marry Penelope Fawley this summer. Unlike many she is not an abomination born of incest, as her family holds to the faith much as ours does. With the Fawleys, our alliance will be secure and restore morality to our great cause. _

 

_ Lucius Malfoy, Lord of the House of Malfoy _

 

“Well then,” Hermione said, desperately trying to cool her fury. “ _ Incendio _ .” The letter went up in flames as her wand tapped it. It was soon gone completely, for she had vanished the ashes and smoke.

“What was that for?” Draco asked, deeply confused. Hermione turned towards him from the cabinet, where she had been pacing.

“You never received a letter,” Hermione said. “You have heard of Penelope Fawley and met her in passing as you share a house.”

“Are you going to tell Aunt Bella about this?”

“Oh Draco,” Hermione said, her smile wide and eye burning with a cold fury. “I can exact my own vengeance.” Without a further word, Hermione swept out of the room and onto the seventh floor, leaving a confused, nervous, and slightly reassured Draco Malfoy in her wake.


End file.
